


The Fire in Which We Burn

by postboxinheaven



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - World War II, Angst, Comedy, Drama, Historical, Lawyers, M/M, Modern Era, Non-Linear Narrative, Pacific War, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, War, johnny the barista is the best character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-09 17:43:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 54,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14720705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/postboxinheaven/pseuds/postboxinheaven
Summary: What will become of you and me, besides the photo and the memory?(aka Jongdae learns what growing up really means, not once, but twice.)





	1. June 1938

**Author's Note:**

> Intensely non-linear timeline ahead! I tried to add some pattern to it so it’s not too confusing. (I think) it all comes together to make a decent amount of sense. Time spans years in the past while it spans only a few months in the present! Each chapter flips between the two timelines.

Jongdae’s suit sticks to his body as he does the buttons up. It’s much too early in the day for it to be this hot already. The temperature will most likely pick up at least a degree with every hour, until the sun is above his head, beating down on him and coaxing buckets of sweat out of his body. It’s going to be uncomfortable to say the least.

The mirror in front of him returns a hazy reflection. The frame is tiny, and he can’t quite see himself. Jongdae bends down to fix his jet black hair as quickly as possible. His skin has gotten shades darker recently, with the past months have revealing Busan’s hottest summer in years. Jongdae sighs in frustration. If there is one thing he hates the most, it is the sweltering heat of the summer. Meeting his eyes in the mirror, Jongdae catches his thoughts wandering. Mentally chastising himself, he hurries down to his family’s tiny kitchen.

He’s late.

The whole family is downstairs eating breakfast before work, wearing at least two less layers than him.

“I’m running late.” Jongdae attempts to quickly slip out of the kitchen but he fails. His mother drags him by the ear and pushes him down into a chair next to Jongdeok, who tries not to laugh. Jongdae stares at the bowl of food in front of him with apprehension.

“Mother,” Jongdae attempts to reason. “We don’t-”

“Just eat.” His mother’s voice is stern and her word is law. There isn’t a choice.

Breakfast is delicious. Somehow his mother manages to make the most delicious food out of the scrap vegetables they can afford.  Jongdae tries to enjoy the meal with a smile but his mind betrays him. _We don’t have enough money for breakfast._

It takes effort, but he forces the smile to stay.

Breakfast isn’t a part of their daily routine. Jongdae wonders why today is different until he recognizes the flavor of the food he was stuffing into his mouth. Seaweed soup.

“Happy birthday, Dad,” he grins. Jongdae’s father’s eyes go wide as his son wishes him. He’s thrown off, much like he is every year. Their family has never had the luxury of celebrating birthdays.

As the significance of the meal hits him, Jongdae’s father whispers a quiet thanks to his mother as she comes around the table to ladle more soup into his bowl. She accepts it with a small smile and affectionate kiss on the cheek. In her mind, this is the least she can do.

Jongdae playfully gives his brother grief for his terrible memory. Jongdeok normally doesn't remember even his own birthday, much less anyone else’s.

“As long as you remember Hyejin’s birthday,” Jongdae jokes, eyebrows wiggling. His brother turns red while his parents laugh. Jongdeok wasn’t engaged yet, but it was inevitable. He’s been sweet on one of the girls in their neighborhood for quite a while now, and they make a perfect match. The wedding would be the biggest celebration the town has seen in awhile, and Jongdae couldn’t wait for it to happen. If only his brother would hurry up and propose.

Jongdae can’t help but feel unfilial for not being able to do anything for his father at all. At least Jongdeok would be able to spend the entire day giving his father company at the factory, all the while bringing home money for dinner. Jongdae wouldn’t get the chance to do either of those things.

His eyes keep flitting to his battered watch. It tells him that he’s still late, but today that doesn’t matter. If nothing else, he should stay and enjoy this makeshift celebration, however shabby it was. His father and Jongdeok will go off to the factory in a few minutes and most likely won’t return until Jongdae was long asleep. The temporary change of pace is welcome. Jongdae can’t even remember the last time their family had a morning to themselves. Family time is simply another luxury that the Kim family could not afford when their days were consumed with working to put food on the table.

After successfully putting smiles on his family’s faces with a few meaningless jokes, Jongdae places a kiss his mother’s cheek and gives his father a quick hug. He hurries out into the hot air and makes his way down a familiar path.

It takes him until he’s halfway to school to realize that his mother had allowed them to speak in Korean all morning.

By the time he reaches the campus gates, Jongdae can feel his skin tingling. Nothing could save him from today’s sun. Perhaps he should ask Sehun for some of that sun cream that he uses. If the summer stayed this hot, his skin would be peeling in no time.

Jongdae greets his classmates as he searches for Minseok. Despite his status as a member of the working class, Jongdae was quite popular among students. It was unheard of for someone of Jongdae’s social elevation to be attending higher education, given that only a few thousand people in the entire country were blessed with such a chance. One either had to be either extremely wealthy or incredibly smart. At the Imperial University that Jongdae attends, more often than not they were both.

Jongdae’s case was entirely different. He was incredibly smart, but for a poor man an intelligent brain wasn’t enough to earn an education. His university seat was based entirely on luck. Jongdae’s father had a longstanding favor from a very wealthy man, and when it came time for him to begin his schooling, his father cashed it in.

Jongdae protested for weeks when it happened. His father could have just used the favor for some extra money, and their family would have had enough food in their stomachs for at least a few months, maybe even years. Jongdae hated the thought of spending his life in a factory, but he planned on going to work there like the rest of his neighborhood. It was practical. One more mouth in the house that would feed itself.

Protesting was futile, and Jongdae’s father had refused to let him give up the chance. Someday soon, Jongdae would get an important job that would earn more him more money in one year than his father has made in a lifetime. Then, it would all be worth it.

It had taken Jongdae some time to wrap his head around the thought, but as always, his father was right. In a year, Jongdae would finally be able to buy his father a bicycle so that the old man wouldn’t have to walk four miles to the factory and back every day. Perhaps he would buy his mother a pretty outfit instead of the old rags that she was forced to put on. A small piano for his brother who loved music more than anything in the world. A big house for them all to live in happily. He would finally be able to put food on the table instead of eating what other people earned for him, and he couldn’t wait.

His suit was stifling in the heat. Jongdae’s commute is much longer than most of his classmates’. With the University on the wealthy side of town, the tiny home Jongdae lived in was a long trek away. Today, it took him even longer than usual because of his slowed pace. It was far too hot to power walk the whole way, and Jongdae had no intention of arriving at school completely drenched in sweat.

It takes him a while to find Minseok. Other students keep stopping him to chat for a bit, making him much later than he had intended to be. It continues to shock him, how much his peers respect and admire him. Jongdae had always equated it to his intelligence, until Minseok made him realize that it might be more. Growing up off the beaten path had shaped Jongdae’s personality well. His bright optimism and laid-back nature made him easy to talk to.

Jongdae prides himself in being able to outsmart nearly everyone at his university. The initial skeptical people had of him was hard for them to overcome, but he had proved time and time again that he had more potential than some of the other students could ever dream of having.

Jongdae has always been a likeable person. Growing up in such a difficult environment, he was forced to make light of any situation and figure out ways to enjoy even the hardest days. Going through tough days with a smile on his face made everything much easier to cope with, so Jongdae learned how to force himself into happiness. It wasn’t always easy, but it made life more livable. Getting people to like him had turned into a survival instinct. Things didn’t come easy in his world, and it was important to be in the right people’s good books. With a brain like his, a humble background didn’t have to be an obstacle unless Jongdae made it one. The only way Jongdae could get picked over a rich kid was if he was smarter and more likeable.

And he was.

Jongdae finally finds Minsoek sitting along with their other friends, Sehun and Chanyeol.

“You’re incredibly late,” Minseok points out, without lifting his eyes from the book in his hands.

The three of them sport shiny suits and fashionable hats lay perched upon their heads. It looks quite ridiculous. Rich men voluntarily wear far too many layers, and Jongdae can’t understand why. He takes a look at his own suit. It’s a bit too loose and the inseam is slowly falling apart, but it will have to do for now. Like always, he must wait until the navy color fades completely, and then he can try to pawn an old one off of Minseok again. Out of the four of them, Minseok has always been most comparable to his size.

Minseok is universally known to be Jongdae’s best friend at school. His quiet wisdom balances out Jongdae’s outspokenness, and together they make quite the duo. Although still quite far, Minseok’s upper middle class status makes him the most comparable in social rank to Jongdae. Talking to the man is comfortable because although Minseok might not have experienced what Jongdae has, he has a sense of understanding that no one else can manage.  

Sehun and Chanyeol, on the other hand, are still unable to wrap their heads around the idea that Jongdae can’t afford something as simple as a bicycle. With their wealthy fathers and pure-bred horses, the two boys have no idea what the real world truly was. They always mean well though, and it leaves Jongdae unable to stop himself from developing a big-brotherly affection. Along with Jongdae himself, the two boys are probably the most entertaining students in their small university, making great company during long, boring days of lecture.

“It happens to be my father’s birthday, actually.” Jongdae takes a seat on the stone wall next to his companions. “I was too busy eating the most delicious soup.”

“You’d better bring us over sometime,” Sehun whines, knocking Jongdae’s knee with his own. “The lunch tins you bring have some of the best food I’ve ever eaten. I can’t imagine what kind of taste your mother’s cooking would have if it were fresh.”

“To my house? Are you sure about that, Sehun?” Jongdae laughs. He would bet his family’s fortune that Sehun’s father wouldn’t let him set his foot into Jongdae’s poverty ridden neighborhood.

Sehun pouts in response. He tends to get frustrated when Jongdae teases his lack of knowledge about the world outside. Sehun is always willing to learn, but never has the chance. The rich aren’t too keen on allowing their children to wander off into impoverished parts of the city. Recent times have brought along spreading paranoia that likely wasn’t helping his case either. Frankly, if Jongdae was in the place of Sehun’s father, he would do the same thing.

“Have you heard?” Chanyeol’s normally boisterous voice drops to a low undertone. Korean syllables start rolling off his tongue comfortably. It’s a jarring change to Jongdae’s ears, he hasn’t heard the language being spoken on university grounds in quite a while. Jongdae sweeps his eyes around to make sure they weren’t being watched. These days, even the walls had ears. Nobody was safe from being accused for revolutionary activity. Not even the wealthy.

“Of course we’ve heard,” Jongdae whispers, keeping his voice low but actions animated, in case someone were to see. Their location was secluded enough for their words to be protected from the wrong ears, but foregoing caution was always a foolish choice.

“They’ve been taken away,” Minseok fills them in. “Nobody has heard from them since.”

“They’re the last ones,” Jongdae sighs. Frustration boils in his veins. “Give it a few years and our country’s children won’t even know what the Korean language is.”

“Throwing a bunch of kids in prison for publishing a Korean newspaper seems extreme. There wasn’t a bit of anti-Japanese sentiment in the entire damn thing. Such a shame.” Sehun attempts to control his reaction. Anger was never a good expression to wear in public. It attracted too much suspicious attention.

“Is there anything that isn’t extreme these days?” Minseok scoffs. “There’s been talk of war. When there’s war, there’s conscription. Give it a few months and the entire country will be erupting in chaos. Those idiots are going to start being stricter than ever for absolutely no reason.”

“I doubt they’d draft us for the military. They’re going to throw everyone straight into the factories. Thank god talk hasn’t crossed the neighborhood borders. I wouldn’t dare to breathe a word to my family about it. We barely have enough money to put food on the table as it is, I don’t need my family to be worrying about a war. If Jongdeok were to be taken...” Jongdae shakes his head, unable to finish the sentence. He didn’t have to say the words; they were obvious enough as it is. Sehun sees the fear in Jongdae’s eyes and rubs his shoulder comfortingly.

Chanyeol frowns. “The men in the factories will be the first people to get thrown onto a boat and shipped straight to Japan.”  

“Nothing is serious yet,” Minseok soothes Jongdae’s nerves. “These are just a bunch of rumors from old men with nothing but time on their hands. It shouldn’t make us nervous.”

Jongdae nods in understanding. As much as he wants to believe Minseok, more often than not, rumors stem from the truth. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire and Jongdae is afraid to think about how big this fire could be.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jongdae sees a flash of movement.

“Let’s go to class,” Jongdae says, returning to Japanese. He feels a sense of hollowness as the unfamiliar language rolls of his tongue. Practice can make anything perfect, but Japanese will never be comfortable to him. It will never remind him of home.

Jongdae decides that thankfully, if anyone was actually watching them, they would have been much too far away to catch their words. They must never return to that place again if they want to avoid suspicion. Finding a new place was going to be difficult, but they’ve managed to do it before. Hopefully they’d get lucky again, but inevitably it's going to become almost impossible for these discussions to continue.

Jongdae wonders how much more time they have before there’s nowhere left to go.

-

“Jongdeok, Jongdae, go help your mother with the cooking.” Jongdae’s father sits at the kitchen table with a book and calls to his children. The factory had closed early today in honor of the owner’s birthday, so everyone is home. Jongdae had gotten accustomed to eating with just his mother every night, and he’s glad to be able to have dinner with his whole family for once.

By the time they’re all gathered around the table, the sun has fully set. The July night slowly cools down as they devour the meal with fervor. Jongdae tries to slip into Korean every now and then, but his mother chides him. She’s become stricter in the weeks since news of war broke throughout the neighborhood. Jongdae doesn’t dare to utter a word about it - even though it’s on all of their minds.

They cover up their fear with laughter and silly stories about neighbors. Jongdae’s mother tells them about the youngest son of the Park family who just turned five. The boy spends the entire day running around the neighborhood and she is sure that he will turn out just as mischievous and handsome as her own sons.

Jongdae laughs along with the rest of his family. He’s trying not to think, but he can’t help himself from hoping that the Park boy is able to grow up with a father. If talk is true, he most likely wouldn’t. The entire neighborhood is in fervent preparation, getting ready to send their sons and husbands away. Life would have to go on without the men, no matter how difficult it was going to get.

Talk of the conscription was forbidden in their household. At least they would be only losing one. His father was much too old to be taken to the foreign factories, and the chances of Jongdae himself being called was next to nothing. Having a status of higher education would most likely save him. Most likely.

If the family loses Jongdeok, they will lose the little livelihood that they have, but if they lose Jongdae, they will lose their hope for the future. The occasion that the both of them are drafted, well, the family refuses to even think about it.

“If Jongdeok is asked to leave-” Jongdae’s father starts with caution, only to be cut off immediately.

“ _Honey_ ,” his mother ends the subject with a warning tone. They would deal with it when the time comes.

Jongdae’s spoon freezes halfway in the air as he comprehends the words that just ran through his head. He quickly corrects himself.

 _If_ the time comes.

-

It has begun.

Jongdae walks to school with fear coursing through his veins. These days, he refuses to leave the house every morning without pulling his older brother into a tight hug. The signature bounce in his step is gone, replaced with heavy feet dragging through the unpaved, dusty roads. The nerves are getting to him.

As he nears school grounds he takes a deep breath and plasters a smile on his face. Nobody has noticed that Jongdae was behaving out of the ordinary. It is only his three friends that can tell. The usually talkative Jongdae is slowly becoming introspective, getting lost in his head at every opportunity.

As he approaches the other three he can detect the concern in their faces. Jongdae waves it off. Maybe if he tells everyone else that he is okay, he’ll start to believe it as well.

“How many is it now?” Minseok’s tone is grave. Sehun’s classic light-hearted expression is replaced with a frown and furrowed eyebrows. Other than Jongdae, Chanyeol is the only one who attempts to conceal his true feelings.

Jongdae can see right through him.

“Four more in my neighborhood just last night.” Jongdae picks at the fraying edges of his suit until Minseok slaps his hand away, quietly scolding him for the nervous habit. “Father says that the factory is emptying out faster than he’d thought it would.”

“Jongdeok?” Chanyeol’s voice is cautious.

“Nothing yet,” Jongdae sighs. “But it’s only a matter of time.” Chanyeol slings his arm around Jongdae’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort. The boy gives up on his practiced expression, letting the concern and sadness creep through.

The rest of the school operates as normal. Talk of their country’s men being taken away floats around in hushed tones. The rich were pardoned of course, but no one dared to make the mistake of misspeaking. The pardon could easily change in a moments notice.

When the four of them walk outside after their final lecture ends, someone waiting at the front of the school calls out to Chanyeol with a smile. It’s Chanyeol’s father.

“Hello boys,” Chanyeol’s father chuckles as he dismounts his horse. “You all look drained. It must be the heat.”

Chanyeol’s father walks towards them and throws an arm around Jongdae. The man was one of his role models. Somehow Mr. Park was able to achieve immense success without rolling into bed with the Japanese. He was the owner of an incredibly successful vessel production company and had taken a liking to Jongdae since he’d met the boy two years ago.

“How are you, my boy?” The man’s voice exudes concern, though his expression stays neutral. Jongdae understands what the question really means.

“Good,” Jongdae pauses. “For now, at least.”

“Tell you what, my boy,” Chanyeol’s father pats his shoulder. “Come over to my house for a visit tomorrow, we can have a little chat. I believe that you and this young lad over here are about to complete your schooling?”

Mr. Park gestures at Minseok. The two of them nod in affirmation.

“It’s time to have a discussion about your careers. I’ve heard from Chanyeol that you two are the smartest of your classmates. I’d best grab you for myself before anyone else has the chance.”

Jongdae’s jaw drops. Before he can deliver his thanks, Chanyeol’s father waves him off.

“I’m here to get these two.” Mr. Park points at Sehun and Chanyeol. “We have dinner at the Oh’s place tonight.”

Chanyeol and Sehun practically grew up like brothers. Their parents had known each other from a young age and together, their fathers’ own two of Korea’s most successful businesses. Jongdae had met Sehun’s father a few times as well. The man was just as inspiring as Mr. Park.

“I’d better get going, then.” Jongdae starts towards the abandoned South Gate, waving farewell to the rest of them. The rest of the school normally used the East Gate because it was closer to their neighborhoods.

Jongdae was the only one who ever had a reason to go south.

-

“Come to work with us after you finish up,” Chanyeol’s father sits with them in sitting room of the Park Estate. The foyer itself is probably ten times the size of Jongdae’s house.

“We could use two smart men like you.” Mr. Park sips on his drink casually. “Especially with war upon us. We’re going to need to start drafting new designs. I’ve heard from Chanyeol that Jongdae has a knack for engineering.”

“He does,” Minseok grins. Jongdae face heats up at the praise, and he’s a shade away from red. Jongdae can’t deny it, his sense for innovation and design was quite commendable. He’d always wanted to work in engineering, so a career in ship architecture would be a dream come true.

“I’m assuming you’d want to start as soon as possible. We will pay you fairly, don’t worry about a thing,” Chanyeol’s dad leans over and pours him another drink. The alcohol is getting to his head, but in their culture, refusing a drink from an elder is a sign of disrespect.

“It’s a pity, what they’ve been doing. I’m sorry to the people of your neighborhood. I hope your brother comes back safely.”

Jongdeok was gone by the time Jongdae gotten home the day before. His only consolation was that the hug he had given his brother that morning was tighter than usual. It was as close to a proper goodbye as he would have gotten anyways.

“It is shameful of us to say that we are only able to sympathize and not empathize.” Mr. Park hangs his head in shame. “I cannot even begin to fathom sending Chanyeol off like that. These boys are being forced to pledge their lives to a foreigner’s fight.”

“It is the way of the world. Nothing can be done about it,” Jongdae waves it off. His heart is heavy as he thinks about the horrors Jongdeok might be experiencing right now. It is foolish to think that the Japanese would be treating conscripted workers with care. They would be little more than slaves.

After a few more drinks, Jongdae is visibly swaying. Mr. Park and his friends insist that he stays the night. Avoiding the streets this late would be in his best interests.

As unsafe as it might be, Jongdae refuses. It’s only been a day after his brother was taken away from them. Staying away from home would be an act of cruelty towards his mother. Nobody would be able to convince him otherwise. At least not tonight.

Jongdae staggers through town and arrives at his neighborhood’s border. Luck is on his side today. He’s almost home in one piece.

Jongdae is minutes away from his house when he hears shuffling behind him. His heart stops for a moment. He’s about to spin around to locate the source of the noise but it’s too late. A feeling of pain erupts on his head, and he can hear the sound of metal clanging in the distance.

Jongdae counts to three before the world goes black.


	2. May 2018

“I’m done.” Jongdae picks up his textbook and prepares to chuck it at the wall. “I’m done. I’m so fucking done.”

“Shhhh calm down,” Kyungsoo quickly hurries over to him and takes the book out of his hand. “I’m in full support of you destroying this thing, but we’re in the library.”

Jongdae looks like he’s about to cry.

“I promise I’ll let you burn it the day we graduate. We can burn it all. How does that sound, Jongdae? Mass burning of the books?” Kyungsoo is rubbing his back soothingly. After a few deep breaths, Jongdae manages to calm down a little.

“You promise?” Jongdae pouts slumping down into his chair. “You better not back out on this, this is all I have to live for.”

Kyungsoo pats him on the head affectionately.

“Do we have to start studying already?” Jongdae already knows the answer to that question without even asking. It’s the same question he’s been asking himself for the last three years.

“Sadly, yes,” Kyungsoo sighs and opens his textbook again with a disgusted look on his face. He’s hunched over, as if he’s hiding something from Jongdae. After years of knowing Kyungsoo, Jongdae can immediately tell what’s going on.

“You’re on chapter five already aren’t you?” Jongdae leans over and tries to peek over Kyungsoo’s arm.

“No.” Kyungsoo tilts the book away from Jongdae. Kyungsoo is lying. Jongdae can see the page header.

“You’re on chapter five,” Jongdae awes. He’s starting to feel a little disoriented and the amount of effort he has to put into keeping his eyes open is almost unbelievable. “You’re on chapter five oh my fucking god I hate you so much why won’t you just let me take Adderall.”

Kyungsoo whacks him in the side of the head in an attempt to help him return to his senses. Jongdae’s head clears for a fraction of a second. He wonders if he’s alive.

After thinking about it really hard for a minute, Jongdae decides that he is, in fact, alive.

“I’m alive.” Jongdae picks up his pencil mechanically and begins writing on the margin of his textbook. He wonders if it’s legible. That’s a question he’ll have to go back and answer tomorrow when he’s reviewing his notes during his morning cram session.

“And I wish you weren’t.” Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and goes back to his textbook. Jongdae sighs wistfully. Chapter five seems like two lifetimes away.

“I’m only on chapter three, I’m going to fail,” Jongdae wails. “Kyungsoo kill me now. If I die tonight, I’d want it to be at your hands. Your beautiful hands that have touched chapter five.”

“If you don’t shut up in the next two seconds, I am literally going to punch you in the dick.”

Jongdae shuts his mouth immediately and goes back to his notes. The words he’s reading only partially register in his brain. All he can register about the case he’s reading is that Sandra’s husband is an asshole for cheating on her with his hot secretary. The only conclusions he can come to are that Sandra needs to punch her husband in the face and that he’s fucked for this exam.

For the billionth time in the last three years, he finds only one thought running through his head.

Law school was a terrible idea.

-

Losing the ability of differentiating between sleep and consciousness has created quite a few problems in Jongdae's life. For example, as he stares at the test paper in his hand with a huge 98 circled in red on the front. He must be dreaming.

“Do you need me to pinch you for reassurance?” Kyungsoo comes up next to him with his own test paper in hand. Jongdae scrambles to rip it out of his hand. 97.

“I DID BETTER THAN YOU.” Jongdae yells. He’s extremely loud but not even one person around them spares a glance. The students of the Columbia Law School are more than used to random manic outbursts from various students. Most of them have probably even been in Jongdae’s shoes more than once in the the past few years.

“I can see that. I’m happy for you,” Kyungsoo smiles genuinely. The feeling of outperforming the class valedictorian gives Jongdae a rush of happiness. The last time Jongdae did better than his best friend on a test was in high school. Jongdae will never forget what it felt like to outscore the history god himself on and AP Euro test. And no, no matter how many times Kyungsoo says it, the hot Renaissance men had nothing to do with his piqued interest in that unit. At all.

His euphoria only lasts a few seconds before the feeling of impending doom returns.

“I need to sleep.” Jongdae shakes his head violently to try to wake himself up. He could probably fall asleep right if he wanted to. Law school might have taught him a lot of random bullshit, but the most useful skill is definitely being able to sleep standing up. “I need to be asleep right now.”

“We have to go,” Kyungsoo agrees simply. They head towards the exit of Lenfest Hall at top speed, almost knocking over a few other wandering zombies in the process. Their Manhattan apartment is conveniently located only a few minutes away from Columbia’s campus, so they’re able to get home in no time at all. The prime location comes in handy almost every day, saving them commute time and allowing them to get a few more minutes of sleep in the mornings.

The elevator takes them straight up to Jongdae’s penthouse and as it opens to reveal his living room. Kyungsoo runs to his room at the speed of light, and Jongdae hears a loud thud. A part of him wonders if the other man is okay. A bigger part of him is too tired to care.

Jongdae is practically the opposite of his roommate. He drags his feet to his room, entering sluggishly. Debating whether or not to change out of his jeans, Jongdae shuffles to his bed at a snail’s pace. It takes him less than 20 seconds to disregard the fact that sleeping in jeans was disgusting and uncomfortable before he face-plants into his bed.

Jongdae is out cold before he can count to three.

-

Growing up in the Upper East Side of Manhattan isn’t nearly as glamorous as Gossip Girl makes it seem. If Jongdae ever got the chance to make any public service announcement of his choice, that would probably be it. His only recommendation to people who wish to make it big would be to steer clear of this part of town. In his opinion, it’s nothing but a fucked-up mess.

“That chick from the 14th floor tried to break into our place last night, by the way,” Kyungsoo notifies him as he pads into the kitchen after his blissful nap. “I think she was tripping on something.”

“What’s new.” Jongdae grabs a carton of milk and his precious family sized box of Cocoa Pebbles. For one of the richest people in Manhattan, Jongdae likes to keep his diet relatively simple. And by simple, he means exclusively sugar and carbs. “I think she she was in my undergrad graduating class.”

Kyungsoo butters his toast with an amused look on his face. “Makes sense, Harvard is practically a breeding ground for experimental drugs.”

“I still regret not getting involved with that part of campus life,” Jongdae laments, pulling out the largest bowl he can find in the cabinet and filling it up to the top with cereal.

“So, fifteen more days of this hell.”

“And then another month and a half of hell.” Kyungsoo reminds, staring at his toast forlornly.

“And then potentially an entire lifetime of hell after that.” Jongdae shoves cereal into his mouth with a pathetic expression decorating his face.

“We’re dumb as hell. How did we convince ourselves that it would be a good idea to become a lawyer?”

The doorbell rings and Kyungsoo excuses himself from their mini pity party to see who it is. A few moments later he returns to the kitchen with Jongin in tow.

“What’s up?” Jongin perches himself on a barstool. “Why does Jongdae look like someone just ran over Tabitha with a semi.”

As if on cue, Jongdae’s cat lets out a shrill wail from the corner of the room.

“Regret. That’s what’s up.” Jongdae drains the milk remaining in his bowl and pours more cereal in. Kyungsoo opens his mouth, likely to make a motherly comment about controlling his sugar intake to reduce his risk of getting diabetes. He seems to think better of it after looking at the expression on Jongdae’s face.

“Seems like it’s contagious,” Jongin sighs. Jongdae takes a closer look at his friends face and frowns at what he sees. Per usual, he’s dressed like a model straight out of a couture fashion magazine, but Jongdae always knows how to see past the perfect façade. Jongin looks even more dead than the two of them combined, if that was even possible. The bags under his eyes are particularly grey and his eyelids are swollen. Jongin looks like he needs to sleep immediately. In fact, Jongin looks like he’s already asleep and being awake is just an act.

“Are you dying?” Kyungsoo softly pets Jongin’s perfectly styled coif. Jongdae doesn’t miss the look of affection in his best friend’s eyes, and he has keep himself from smirking.

“I wish I was. They had to force me to take a day off, but I can’t even enjoy it because I’m terrified of how much much work I’ll have when I get back.”

“Anything you want to do in particular today? We have a lot of work to do but we’re probably going to blow it off and hate ourselves for it tomorrow.” Kyungsoo offers sympathetically, rubbing his arm. Jongdae’s gotten used to the strange unresolved sexual tension between them, but sometimes being around them makes him feel like he’s watching one of those documentaries about mating on Animal Planet.

“Can we burn down Wall Street?” Jongin whines pathetically. “Or at least just Goldman?”

“I really wish we could, but I’m sorry, Jongin.” Kyungsoo detaches himself from Jongin’s side to make him a cup of tea.

“Don’t listen to him. He says that all the time about the Law Library but it’s not like that’s going to stop me,” Jongdae offers. Kyungsoo gives him a deadly stare, and Jongdae shuts up instantly. “How about we play it safe and get wasted instead?”

“Hell fucking yeah.” Jongin visibly brightens up. It only lasts a few seconds and his facial expression immediately distorts back into a perfect harmony of pain and suffering. Jongdae decides that he’s going to force Jongin to take a nap before they do anything today.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Kyungsoo says as he hands Jongin the warm cup of tea. Kyungsoo has always been the sensitive one of the group. There was never a situation in which he didn’t know exactly how to make the other two feel better. Jongdae has even taken to thinking about difficult situation with what he likes to call the ‘What Would Kyungsoo Do?’ methodology. He knows most people do that with Jesus, but Kyungsoo was practically a god in his eyes.  

The three of them have been the best of friends since their prep school days, and Jongdae considers Kyungsoo to be one of the biggest blessings in his life. Jongin likely feels the same way, but with added romantic feelings that Jongdae thinks are gross.

“I’m seriously contemplating leaving banking and becoming a quant. Everyone in investment banking is a fratty tool. At least quants are just a bunch of nerds. I know at least four MIT alums that are there right now and I am so incredibly jealous of them.”

“I feel like frat boys are almost better than self entitled law enthusiasts,” Kyungsoo ponders. “God, those fuckers make up, like, 75 percent of the law school.”

“What are the other 25 percent?” Jongin asks.

“Idiots like us who are suffering because they know that they’ve made a mistake,” Jongdae laments. His cereal is soggy but he keeps shoving it into his mouth anyways.

“I thought Kyungsoo was the smartest in your class though.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t hate every moment of it,” Kyungsoo seethes. “I should have just stuck to math. Law school, they said. It would be fun, they said. News flash, it’s a hell hole. I can’t believe I handed over thousands of dollars to a prep school, then to Yale, and _then_ Columbia all just to suffer. This all feels fake.”

“My dad still calls me a disappointment for not getting into Harvard Law.”

 _It’s a pity you had to settle for Columbia, Jongdae. I wish you had managed to make a top three school_ ; he remembers his dad lecturing him across the dinner table four years ago.

“What are we?” Kyungsoo walks over and starts doing the dishes while Jongdae cleans up the mess he made while eating. It looks like at least half of the cocoa pebbles ended up on the island instead of his bowl. Jongdae makes an effort to mop it up before Kyungsoo yells at him. He checks the box before putting it away. It’s already more than half finished and he only opened it last night. He has a bit of a cocoa pebble problem.

“Why do we live like this?”

“Let’s stop before we get too existential, guys,” Jongin interjects. “I would prefer to use as little of my brain as possible today.”

“I support this plan,” Jongdae seconds. “But let’s get back early from our escapades tonight, we have to start that review paper by 10:00 am tomorrow morning or we’ll never get it done in time, Kyungsoo.”

“Yeah and I have to go to work,” Jongin pouts. There’s a general feeling of dejection in the air and Jongdae gives into it completely, slumping down further until his head hits the island with a soft thud.

“God, we’re so pathetic.” Kyungsoo looks at the both of them with disappointment on his face.

Jongdae couldn't agree more.

-

When Jongdae wakes up the next morning he immediately figures out that something is wrong. His head is pounding so hard that it’s almost numb, and he’s still wearing his clothes from last night. One look at the half empty bottle of whiskey on his nightstand is confirmation for his premonition.

He made a big mistake.

He racks his brain and comes up with nothing. The entire night is a blank and he can’t remember anything past taking his fourth shot at the first bar they went to. The first bar out of too many bars. He really needs to stop going out on weekdays.

His phone buzzes on the bedside table and Jongdae carefully grabs it without knocking over the glass of whiskey placed dangerously close to it. Where did that come from?

 

 

_J_ _ongin:_

_I made it to work. Barely._

_Jongdae:_

_Thank god. Do you feel like death?_

_Jongin:_

_Worse than death. I don’t remember anything from last night. Not even a little._

_Kyungsoo:_

_Don’t worry you didn’t do anything regretful. Now shut up so I can go back to sleep._

_Jongin:_

_I hate you._

 

_Jongdae:_

_Sorry bby. Get some soup for lunch if you can._

 

 

Jongdae stumbles out of bed and goes about his morning routine. By the time he wipes the evidence of his drunken escapades away from his room, it’s almost an hour later. When he moves to grab his computer, something catches his eye at the corner of his desk.

It’s a leather bound journal. From the looks of it, it has to be incredibly old because it was practically falling apart. The cover is faded, ripping at the edges. Jongdae has no idea where it came from, but he’s assuming that it has something to do with last night. He takes a closer look. There are initials carved into the spine with what must of been something sharp. Perhaps a pocket knife. KJD. His initials. Perhaps that’s why he was drawn to it enough to bring it home with him. He carefully picks it up and opens the cover to reveal the first page. It’s written in Korean.

_KJD. Personal Diary. August 20, 1938._

Fascinated, Jongdae turns the page to the first entry.

 

_It has been one month since I have arrived at Fukuoka. As each day goes by, hope of returning home diminishes. I wish desperately for someone to save me._

_However, I do not believe it to be possible._


	3. September 1938

Jongdae examines his hands as he sits down for his afternoon meal. It had only taken a month for them to turn callused and burned by rope and metal. Cuts and scrapes littered his now golden tan arms. A sheen of sweat and dirt covers his entire body. He can’t remember the last time he’s taken a bath.

“Extra potato today,” Kyungsoo takes a seat in the dust next to him. He’s holding four potatoes in his hand. Jongdae marvels at them. Just this is more than they were normally fed for the entire day and it’s only lunch time.

“It’s a miracle.” Jongdae quickly digs into his humble meal. The potatoes are undercooked and probably just a few hours away from rotting, but he still thinks they’re delicious. The reality of the past few months has forced him to abandon any sense of being picky. The taste of his mother’s cooking is merely a phantom memory to him.

“We’ve been assigned to the shipyards for the day. Looks like we’re going to have to clean the entire damn Kazuki fleet.”

“Alone?” Jongdae pauses, eyes widening in surprise. The two of them are easily the most efficient workers in their bunch, but the Kazuki fleet was the biggest fleet in the shipyard. For two people the job would take at least two days, if not three.

“They’ve thrown a few of the Chinese captives with us. I think we’ve got the young one, Tao?” Kyungsoo wonders. “The boy complains a lot, but he’s stronger than the two of us put together.”

Kyungsoo’s reassurance puts him at ease. He resumes devouring his meal, only slowing down at Kyungsoo’s warning. This is the most they’ve had to eat in at least three weeks and it is unsafe for Jongdae to be eating at such a pace.

“Word is that Kazuki is part of the human trade network. The man’s been supplying half of the foreign labor for the Fukuoka port. He might have even been the one who brought us here,” Jongdae divulges, anger coursing through his veins. The thought of helping the man who stole his life do the same to thousands of others makes him sick to his stomach. But he has no choice.

“I’d bet my life on it. I’ve seen the bastard walking around the docks on occasion. He’s probably got men crawling through Korea and China, plucking men off the streets and selling them to the ports. Just like they did to us.” Kyungsoo’s lips are pursed into a straight line.

“Give it a few seasons and Korea will be robbed of all its men.” Jongdae balls his hand into a fist. It’s only a matter of time.

“Any word on your brother?” Kyungsoo asks hopefully. Jongdae hangs his head in disappointment. His brother’s whereabouts remain elusive. If the employment of Korean factory workers was even being documented, it would most likely be done under newly their christened Japanese names. Jongdae had searched thoroughly for Jongdeok to no avail. The records for slaves and prisoners was probably poorly kept, if kept at all.

“Reidai, you’ve been summoned by Master Hiromi.” An errand boy scurries into the hut Jongdae and Kyungsoo were occupying for supper. _Reidai._ His new name is still foreign to his ears. No matter how much it’s been used in the past month, it still takes him a few seconds to register that it was actually him being called. Japanese names were most likely his biggest obstacle. It was almost impossible for anyone to find him at this point. There was no doubt that his friends were searching frantically for him, however if they haven’t found him yet, the chances were quite low.

Jongdae follows the errand boy outside. The area is always bustling with nonstop trade activity. Today there was a huge shipment of gold set to leave the port, throwing the entire dock crew into a frenzy. The weight of gold makes transportation an incredibly difficult procedure. The entire port operated inefficiently, but gold days were particularly bad. Today would be a chaotic mess without a doubt.

Jongdae lets his eyes roam over the endless row of ships docked at the port. Hundreds of vessels enter and exit the port daily, many of them to and from Korea. The idiotic thought of sneaking onto one crosses his mind for the hundredth time in the last month. Many men have done it before and not one has succeeded. Jongdae scolds himself for entertaining such thoughts, and resigns to silently following the errand boy along the bustling streets of the port city.

Fukuoka is a beautiful place, despite the terrible circumstance it has caused Jongdae to meet with, he always takes a moment to admire its beauty. The water shimmers along the sandy coastline. It’s especially hot today, and the ocean breeze is much welcome.

Jongdae is taken into the fancy room of the port master. Hiromi is an important man that Jongdae has never laid his eyes on. There was never a need for a man like him to be giving direct orders. He had hundreds of men to do that for him.

As Jongdae enters, he wonders why a laborer of his likes is being summoned. He sets his eye on the port master, a lean man with a cunning expression. His presence exudes power and authority.

It usually takes a lot for Jongdae to be afraid, but he can’t help but feel a twinge of fear creep into him.

“Sir,” Jongdae bows. “How may I be of service to you?”

His Japanese is impeccable. The man looks visibly impressed.

“Reidai, I believe that is your name” The man’s voice is stern and dominating. Jongdae nods. “Jongdae. Kim Jongdae.”

The use of Jongdae’s proper Korean name shocks him. His mouth drops open and his eyes go wide before he can catch himself.

“Don’t be too shocked my boy,” Hiromi chuckles in Korean. “I have done more than enough trade with your people to have picked up the language.”

The man pauses, as if contemplating his next words.

“I’ve recently heard that you were a student at a prestigious Japanese Imperial University.” Hiromi strokes his beard in thought. “You excelled in your studies. Top of your class, correct?”

Jongdae nods stiffly in response. His memories of home start flooding into his system, making him ache on the inside. Quickly forcing them out, he instead wonders how the man was able to collect so much information about his past.

“I have an offer for you.” Jongdae’s ears perk up at the words. He doesn’t let himself hope too much. “I need your help. I cannot guarantee your return home in exchange as you wish for. But I can try my best.”

They are empty words and the both of them know it, but he will accept the job nonetheless. He would give anything to do something other than hard labor.

“You have probably observed this, but our procedures are a bit…” Hiromi pauses. “Outdated, if you will. Work with my team to device new ones. I will pardon you from your daily activities until you complete it.”

“Of course, sir,” Jongdae can feel excitement alighting inside him for the first time in a while.

“Watch out, my team can be a little difficult to work with,” Hiromi warns. “I trust you can hold your ground. You seem quite strong minded from what I’ve seen you of you on the docks. You have a lot of potential. Tenacity is a man’s best friend in this day and age. Don’t let that go. That will be your only hope to make it back home.”

Jongdae bows in thanks. Despite the man’s empty promises, there is something genuine about him. Hiromi’s words echo in his brain as he takes his leave.

He vows to never forget them.

-

“I just want you to know that if we weren’t friends, I would have poisoned you about two weeks ago.” Kyungsoo crinkles his nose in distaste. It’s absolutely adorable.

“Jealousy is a vicious thing,” Jongdae intones, keeping the smile off his face and scribbling into his diary quickly. He had come across it not too soon after he arrived in the port city on the slave boat. For the first few days of being here, Jongdae and Kyungsoo, who he had met on the ship, explored the city with wonder. It was bittersweet, but they were practical enough to understand that they would need to learn and adapt to their new home. Jongdae passed a stall owned by an old grandmother selling leather bound journals. He must have looked pitiful, because after the lady caught him eyeing a particular black journal with longing, she had sold it to him in exchange for some help in transporting goods for a few weeks. It was hard work to do after the cruel hours he was working on the docks, but something about the diary was calling to him.

It had become a way for him to both document his experiences, and stay in touch with his language. Jongdae hates the thought of his Korean skills weakening, so writing seems to be the best alternative to speaking. It is on a very rare occasion that Jongdae is able to slip a word or two in with Kyungsoo, so he takes what he can get.

 “I believe you are being a bit too nonchalant about this. I might be joking, but some of the men out there are serious.”

Jongdae sighs. He understands that other men were jealous of his elevated standing. There wasn’t a doubt that he would be jealous himself if another man was to quickly rise up in the way he has.

“I’m being careful, don’t worry. As apologetic as I am, I must keep with it.”

 _Tenacity_. Jongdae keeps the word running through his mind constantly. He needs it.

“Anyways, it’s not as glamorous as they seem to think it is. Hiromi’s men treat me like less than the dirt on the ground. Getting an idea across is a pain like no other,” Jongdae frowns. “The work of the men here would become so much easier if those damn idiots would just _listen_ to me. For god’s sake, stubbornness is rarely a virtue and they don’t seem to understand that.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to manage,” Kyungsoo playfully jabs him in the arm. “You’re smarter than all of them put together, I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

“Kyungsoo,” Tao calls for Kyungsoo. “Come out and play.”

On the rare days on which work ends early, many of the workers go together for a few games of baseball. It was nothing fancy, on most nights they played with a flimsy stick and a small rock, but it gave them something to do. A reason to smile.

It was almost 8:00 pm and the sun was close to setting. It was a miracle that there were no large shipments scheduled for the night. Whatever trade was to be handled by each company’s own crew. There was no doubt in Jongdae’s mind that it must be illegal activity. Smuggling was a poorly kept secret among the port workers. It’s often smarter to turn a blind eye rather than catching the suspicion of those involved in the illegal goods trade.

As he sits in the silence with his thoughts, exhaustion starts creeping out from under his skin.

By the time Kyungsoo returns for the night and blows out the lights, Jongdae is already drifting to sleep.

-

“Ahh, Reidai, there is a man I would like you to meet.” Jongdae steps into Hiromi’s quarters for the fourth time that week. Time hasn’t changed a thing, and is just as nervous as he was that first time he was summoned weeks ago.

“Yes, sir?” Jongdae bows deeply at the sight of the new man. Or perhaps it was a boy, Jongdae couldn’t tell. He couldn’t have been much older than Sehun, but the man held a dominant aura that Jongdae’s friend had no traces of.

From the arrogant upturn of the man’s lips and the expensive clothing that decorated his body, Jongdae could already tell that this man was trouble.

“Kai,” the man introduces himself with a smirk. His perfect posture accentuates his height. The man wasn’t quite as tall as Sehun and Chanyeol, but he was damn close. “And you are Reidai. Hiromi here has told me quite a bit about you.”

The expression on Hiromi’s face is wary. Jongdae doesn’t like where this is going one bit.

“Jongdae, it seems as if I must give you up.” Hiromi’s face has apologies written all over it. Jongdae’s stomach drops.

“Sir?”

“You see, I owe Kai here a favor, and he has requested that I give him my best man,” Hiromi frowns. “I may be many things, but a cheat is certainly not one of them. I’m afraid I’m going to have to send you with him.”

Jongdae doesn’t know what to say. The news knocks the wind out of him.

“And where would that be to, Sir?” Jongdae manages, leaving the questions he has for Hiromi unsaid. He respects the man too much to openly object to him in front of his colleague.

“You’ve already got him loyal to you, haven’t you Uncle?” Kai raises his eyebrows in amusement. “Tokyo. We leave tomorrow at daybreak. Have your things packed, though I believe there won’t be much.”

Kai strolls past him without another word, leaving the room before Jongdae can formulate a response. Tokyo is the last place he wants to go. Once he ends up there, getting back home would become almost ten times harder.

“I am sorry, my boy.” Hiromi hangs his head. “I know you believe this to be an unfortunate turn of events, but believe it or not this is for your own good.”

Jongdae’s eyebrows furrow in a question. The words seem empty. _Tokyo?_ How on earth would he be able to escape the capital?

“I could have sent any of my men, but I have highest hopes for you, Jongdae. You will never be able to get out of Fukuoka as fast as you think you can. People are saying that war is hovering right above our heads. Your chances of growing to your potential are incredibly limited in this city. Tokyo is your best chance to make something of yourself.”

Jongdae stays silent, unmoving. Everything is happening so fast, and he doesn’t quite know how to process it.

“I understand your frustration. I know you expected more from me, but this is the best I can do for you. Trust me,” Hiromi states plainly, leaving no room for questions. Jongdae doesn’t want to, but he trusts the man anyways. He practically has no choice. From what Jongdae has witnessed during his time in Fukuoka, Hiromi was always right. He can only hope that this would prove true again.

“And how do you suppose Tokyo will be of help to me?”

“Kai is a powerful man. His family owns a large vessel company with multiple factories in Tokyo. With the impending war, the business for ships is going to boom. More men are needed there, especially men with brains like yours. Your chances of rising in ranks are incredibly high. Kai might be a bit difficult, but he is a fair man. He will reward you according to your performance.”

“Difficult, you say?” Jongdae almost laughs at the irony. A vessel company. It is almost as if he has come full circle.

“He’s one of the most difficult men I’ve met, but I have a feeling you two will find some way of getting along. He’s a very intelligent man. Quite young, but he knows what he’s doing better than most of the old wigs running around Tokyo.”

“And will I be able to contact you?” Jongdae is hopeful. This was a man he would prefer not to lose contact with. Jongdae has a feeling that the man’s advice will come in handy while he is in Tokyo.

“Of course, my boy,” Hiromi chuckles. “Send me a post. I can order Kai to bring you along with him for his business trips to Fukuoka as well. Kai and I will always owe each other favors, there’s no doubt about it.”

Jongdae bids his goodbyes and bows, turning to leave. A thought crosses his mind and he pauses. “Sir, one more question,”

“Yes, Jongdae?” Hiromi’s eyes are twinkling. Jongdae has a feeling that the man knows exactly what he was planning on asking.

“Why me? Why have you looked so kindly upon only me?”

The question had been floating around Jongdae’s head for quite a while. The treatment that Jongdae faced at the port was most definitely special. No other man was given such grace. Most of the others were still being treated like slaves.

Hiromi lifts his hand and taps his temple with his first finger.

“Your brain, Jongdae,” Hiromi smiles. “It is very uncommon for me to run into a man that can rival my intelligence. An old friend came around to visit me not too soon after you were brought here. Thank goodness he caught sight of your face, or I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to know you.”

“Who was he?”

“A professor from your University, Sato.” Jongdae recognizes the name. He was never quite close with the man, having taken only one course under him. Jongdae had probably spoke to him only a handful of times. “He was in awe that a man with your mind was wasting his days cleaning ships and hauling shipments around.”

“I must thank him someday, then.” Jongdae smiles a little. That professor had changed his life without him even knowing.

“Someday, I’m sure you will get the chance.” Hiromi returns his smile.

Jongdae isn’t so sure he can believe that, but he tries his damned hardest anyways.

-

“So, Smart Boy. Do you know anything about ships?” Kai leads Jongdae through the bustling streets of Tokyo. The city is different than anything he’s ever seen and his eyes are drawn to everything. It was a lot to take in. “Keep your eyes ahead of you. You’re going to run yourself into a fruit stand if your eyes keep wandering around like that.”

“I have a name.” It had taken Jongdae less than an hour to figure out that Kai doesn’t care much for seniority. It was quite refreshing, and a lifeline for Jongdae’s already waning pride. Having to bow down and respect a bratty heir would have been torturous.

That, of course, doesn’t mean that he hates his new boss any less. The man was entitled, snobbish, rude, and frankly one of the most annoying people Jongdae has ever met. Kai seemed like a dead end to his path to getting back to Korea. If the heir’s personality was any foreshadowing, Kai would keep Jongdae in Tokyo for as long as possible.

“Would you prefer Jongdae?” Kai smirks with his eyebrows raised. Jongdae is shocked for a moment before he realizes that Hiromi likely told Kai everything worth knowing about him. “Doesn’t have as much of a ring as Smart Boy, I must say.”

“I hate you.”

“I don’t care, as long as you’re making me money. You haven’t answered my question, by the way. I’d like an answer to my question.” Kai swiftly turns into an alleyway, leading them to a different part of town. The air begins to reek with the stench of pollution and the air gets visibly smokier. Jongdae instantly recognizes that it’s the manufacturing district. They’re headed to the ship factory.

“I accepted an offer to engineer and design for a ship company the day I got snatched off the streets. I was on my way home to tell my family the good news,” Jongdae deadpans. It’s terribly ironic how the situation had turned out.

“That tells me nothing other than the fact that you know what a ship is,” Kai sighs.

“Enough. I know enough, alright?” Jongdae stops next to Kai in front of a back door to a factory. Kai pulls out a set of keys and begins to unlock it.

“That is vague and unspecific.” Kai opens the door and walks inside, motioning for Jongdae to follow.

“I learned a little about them when we learnt about military. My knowledge might be outdated though,” Jongdae begrudgingly elaborates. “My friend's father owned the shipbuilding company I was going to begin working at, so I’ve picked up some knowledge here and there.”

“Good,” Kai says simply while continuing to lead them through the empty factory to a set of offices in the back corner. The building was dark, but a single light was left on in the back. The echo of their footsteps coupled with the way their voices resonate through the empty factory creates a rather foreboding atmosphere. As they make their way towards the light, an eerie feeling starts spreading throughout him. He’s never quite liked the dark.

“Why is the factory empty? All the other factories seem to be working today.” Jongdae’s voice sounds too loud. He can’t wait to get out of here.

“The factory only runs six days a week. I send everyone home on Sundays. If you work them too hard, the labor force becomes unproductive,” Kai explains. The snobbishness leaving his voice slightly. It’s refreshing, and it gives Jongdae some hope of being able to withstand the man’s company. The passion Kai shows for his factory reminds him of the idealism he left behind in Korea. Perhaps being around someone like him would give Jongdae a reason to feel inspiration again.

“And it works?”

“I’ve been producing more quality and quantity for at least a year, yet nobody else has caught on,” Kai shrugs. “I am completely fine with that, of course. More money for me.”

“I was just about to despise you less for a moment, but here you go again.”

“Get used to it. You’ll be around me quite a bit.” Kai opens the door to a tiny office next to the one with the light on. It’s barely more than a desk and four walls. “Because your office is right next to mine.”

“How joyful,” Jongdae intones, refusing to show the slight excitement that was bubbling up inside of him. It was a foreign feeling, and he doesn’t quite know how to process it. The last time he felt anything akin to excitement was when Chanyeol’s father offered him a job. Months later in Japan, this isn’t the most ideal situation he could have thought of, but it’s much better than his job back at Fukuoka. He can’t deny that Hiromi might have been right about this being the best chance for him.

“Joyful indeed. You’ll start working tomorrow. Be on time and make yourself scarce. I’m trying to keep your presence under wraps for the time being. Most people will not appreciate that I’ve essentially brought in a Korean slave boy to design warships to save Japan

“Noted.”

Kai holds his hand out with a small smile on his face.

“Welcome to Tokyo, Mr. Engineer.”

Jongdae shakes the man’s hand with a small chuckle lodged in his throat.

“I would say it’s a pleasure but-”

“It’s not?” Kai raises his eyebrows in mock horror.

“Not one bit.”

 _But it’s a start_ is the thought that Jongdae keeps to himself. As he looks around the tiny office, he allows the simmering hope to course through his veins. Challenges have never been anything new to Jongdae, and he isn’t going to back down from this one.

-

“Put me on the assembly line,” Jongdae barges into Kai’s office, breaking his boss away from reading his documents. Ever since Jongdae found out that Kai was younger than him, it’s been hard to treat him as his superior. Their relationship has quickly become far too casual for Kai’s liking, but Jongdae has no complaints.

“I’m busy doing important things. Come back later.” Kai continues reading without looking up from his papers. The dim lighting illuminates his golden skin. Kai was quite handsome, and Jongdae considers it a shame that his personality leaves so much to be desired.

Jongdae ignores him and takes a seat in the chair opposite to his.

“Put me on the assembly line,” Jongdae repeats with more conviction.

Kai sighs and looks up at him.

“I didn’t bring you here because I needed another factory worker. I can get ten of those by walking around the nearest market. You’re here to make me money by designing revolutionary ships that will win us this war.”

“Precisely why I need to work in the assembly line.”

“Please explain,” Kai relents. Kai seems to trust Jongdae enough to at least hear him out. Jongdae had a fair number of misconceptions about the younger man at the inception of their partnership, however he’s since come to learn that Kai was willing to treat him as an equal. His meager background was often his biggest obstacle when communicating with those in power, but Kai disregarded any sense of elitism when it came to Jongdae’s ideas. It’s refreshing to feel so valued, and although he would never admit it aloud, Jongdae can’t help but respect Kai for it.

“I can’t design a warship if I don’t know what a warship is supposed to look like. Or what it’s made out of. Or how it works,” Jongdae answers simply. “Also, if you send me out there, I can stop sneaking around this place like I’m not supposed to be here.”

“You aren’t supposed to be here.”

“That’s precisely why it makes sense.” Jongdae rolls his eyes.

“Jongdae, I don’t have time to waste. Things are escalating faster than we think they are.”

“I know. Just trust me on this,” Jongdae pleads. “I promise you it will help move things along faster. I can work in the factory during the day and stay late to work on the designs afterward. I have no idea what I’m doing right now and without any exposure, I won’t be of any help to you at all.”

“I won’t pay you extra,” Kai frowns. Jongdae knows he’s won.

“You aren’t paying me at all in the first place, idiot.”

“There will be nobody here after factory work stops everyday,” Kai argues uselessly. Jongdae suppresses a laugh as he sees the stubborn child in Kai coming out. Sometimes he argues simply for the sake of his ego, and it’s quite amusing to witness. He was one of the smartest people Jongdae has ever met, so much so that Jongdae often forgets how young the boy is until he loses his mature demeanor.

“You’re here until at least nine everyday, Kai,” Jongdae chuckles.

“You’re annoying and I don’t want you around all the time,” Kai whines childishly.

“I’ll stay out of your hair if you stay out of mine,” Jongdae sighs, doing his best to appease the other.

“Fine, you can do it,” Kai agrees finally. The pout on his face stays in place. “I really hate it when you have better ideas than me.”

“Well, get used to it because it’s going to happen a lot.”

**\---**

“They’ve started sending prisoners of war to factories.” Kai runs his hand through his hair while shuffling through stacks of papers.

“Why do you need paperwork for that?” Jongdae hums while staring at his latest design drafts.

“It’s complicated business that is of an importance much higher than your level of understanding,” Kai smirks.

“You continuously fail to understand the fact that I am actually smarter than you.” Jongdae rolls his eyes in annoyance. Daily bickering with Kai has become so ingrained into Jongdae’s routine that he doesn’t even find himself getting angry.

“Shut up.”

“Only after you, _Sir_ ,” Jongdae sighs.

“I like to keep track of who I’m letting into the factory. I can’t just have unidentified prisoners of war running around my assembly lines. Our product designs are strictly confidential. If other vessel companies start catching wind of our innovations, we’re pretty much screwed.”

“Well, I’m going to guess that you don’t need any help with that,” Jongdae eyes the clock and rises from his chair. It was already 9:30 and he was starting to feel the tiredness seeping into his bones. Apart from Kai, he’s always the first to arrive in the morning and last to leave. His responsibilities of working on factory lines in addition to designing after hours has him feeling pretty worn down.

“Don’t enjoy your Sunday too much,” Kai warns. “I expect to see some new designs on Monday.”

“Of course, boss.” Jongdae’s voice is dripping with sarcasm.

The camaraderie he’s found with Kai surprises him every day. Despite their obvious differences in personalities, they made a good team. The constant work has almost made Jongdae start to think of Kai as a friend, as absurd as that might be. As difficult and childish as Kai could be, Jongdae never dreads coming to work. There are even some days that the work is so interesting that he forgets about his ultimate goal of getting back to Korea. On those days, the guilt sits heavily in his gut and he sits in bed with thoughts of his family and friends filling his mind.

“Goodnight Kai, don’t work too hard,” Jongdae calls over his shoulder as he heads out of the room and down the stairs to the factory floor. Machinery towers over him as he walks towards the exit. The emptiness of the factory still frightens him, no matter how many times he’s walked through it alone. As he steps out into the busy street, he’s hit with a gust of crisp autumn air. It’s late October and the air was much too cold for the thin shirt he had on. By the time he reaches his hostel room, his eyes are forcing themselves shut from exhaustion. He quickly changes his clothes and falls into bed.

He somehow forces the thoughts of his family and home away for the night.

-

The morning bell ringing throughout the hostel wakes Jongdae out of a restless sleep. Each floor had a bell that rang precisely at 6:30 every morning, signaling the factory workers to get ready to leave for work.

Kai was the only factory owner that gave his workers Sundays off, which meant that although Jongdae did not have work today, the bell rings anyways. Jongdae tries to go back to sleep but fails. Instead, he stumbles out of bed and sleepily pulls clothes out of his closet to change into. If he wasn’t able to sleep, he might as well find a way to make productive use of his time. His designs weren’t going to create themselves, and there was a lot of work for Jongdae to do.

As Jongdae pulls on a shirt, he turns to open the window for some sunlight. Instead of the window, he’s faced with the sight of another man perched on the edge of the bed next to his. Jongdae lets out an unmanly screech at the sight. The second bed in his room has been empty since he’s gotten to the hostel, and he’s never seen this man before.

“Who are you?” Jongdae demands, inching back. His Japanese comes out scrambled due to the sudden shock. The other man looks rather delicate. His jet black hair is far too long for and frames his face messily. His doe eyes twinkle with amusement and a small smile appears on his face at Jongdae’s reaction. He seems harmless, but Jongdae has learned not to trust anything or anyone. “Why are you in my room?”

“I’m your new roommate.” Jongdae can pick up the slight Chinese accent to the man’s Japanese. “ _Master_ Kai asked specifically for me to be put here. Your name is Jongdae, right?”

“Call me Reidai. It’s safer.” Jongdae wonders why Kai told the man his real name.

“I am not a fool, _Jongdae_. I understand how this all works. Kai mentioned that you tend to be more responsive to your actual name. Something about you being homesick.”

“And you’re not?” Jongdae asks. It’s a rather sudden question and it spills out before he can stop himself. He doesn’t know why he’s entertaining conversation with a strange man that appeared in his room, but there’s something inviting about his smile.

“There isn’t a moment I don’t, actually.” The small smile turns melancholy.

“Who are you?” Jongdae forces himself to calm down. If Kai sent the man, he was to be trusted. No matter how much the Japanese director annoyed him, Jongdae knew that he could trust him.

“I’m Han,” Han stands up and begins unpacking his suitcase. There isn’t much inside it, save for a few old shirts and a book or two. “I’m a prisoner of war from China. My situation isn’t much unlike yours actually.”

“Why do you know so much about me?” Jongdae raises his eyebrows. There has to be a reason why Kai told the man so much. He tends to be incredibly secretive about things, especially things about Jongdae. People finding out Jongdae’s true identity would be disastrous for Kai’s business.

Han turns around and walks over to Jongdae. “Because it’s better to know the man you work with. Makes things easier.”

“What?”

“Nice to meet you partner,” Han holds out a hand in a friendly gesture. Jongdae skeptically shakes it.

“I don’t trust you yet,” Jongdae truthfully divulges.

“And that makes me want trust you for some reason,” Han chuckles. “Trusting a man in this day and age? It’s practically suicide. You’re smart.”

Han glances over at the small side table next to Jongdae’s bed. The designs perched on top of it seem to catch the man’s attention.

“May I have a look?”

Jongdae thinks about it for a moment, but nods in approval. He wasn’t comfortable sharing any important information until he hears word from Kai himself, so he shuffles his more developed designs to the bottom of the stack.

Han glances through a few of the pages of designs Jongdae had drawn up in the past few weeks. The ones left at the top feel like a distant memory to Jongdae despite him having created them only two weeks ago. He’s been working so much lately that he hasn’t even had a chance to acknowledge his progress.

“Brilliant,” Han awes. “These are brilliant. You’re a genius, I haven’t seen anything like this before.”

“Thanks,” Jongdae shrugs. The skepticism doesn’t leave him. He needs to learn more. “So, why did Kai hire you?” There must be a reason Kai scouted a random prisoner for his design team.

“I worked in ship design in China for almost five years before I was brought here. I worked in an airplane factory for a bit, but Kai stumbled upon me a few weeks ago drawing up some designs at a street stall. Hired me within minutes.”

Jongdae shakes his head in awe. It seems Kai had a knack for picking up talent from strange places.

“Why did he pick us though?”

“Because we need each other, Kai and us. He needs us for the free labor and the design breakthrough. We need him for the ticket out of Japan. Neither of us will betray the other. That can’t be said about any of the hundreds of Japanese ship designers begging for a job.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Jongdae wonders aloud.

“I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out already.”

“Well, I’ve had a lot on my mind.” Jongdae motions to the designs that Han was still flipping through.

“You certainly do, don’t you Kim Jongdae?”

This time, Jongdae returns the man’s sly smile.

\--

“I have to go down there. Now.”

Han grabs Jongdae’s bicep firmly, dragging him back into the tiny office room they were now sharing. It was already small enough to begin with, and with Han joining him the place has become a mess. They can barely take a step without tripping over a box or a stack of designs.

“It’s dangerous. The workers will catch on in a heartbeat. You’re infamous for being the only one who managed to escape this damned place.”

“How would they remember me? I’ve never spoken to any of them.”

“It’s the quiet ones that are the most memorable, Jongdae. You achieved the one thing they’ve been wishing they could do for years. Trust me, they aren’t going to forget your face anytime soon.”

“I’m so close,” Jongdae whines, throwing his designs on the table, adding to the existing pile. The number of drafts they have strewn all over the office is getting out of hand. The place was in serious need of cleaning, but there was never and damn time.

“Be patient. They’ll clear out in two hours,” Han warns. “You need a break, anyways. I think I can hear your brain short circuiting from over here.”

“Fine, but I need to get out of this room. I’m going to go talk to Kai.”

“Okay. Try not to kill each other,” Han chirps, leaning against the wall and intently studying Jongdae’s designs. After the initial skepticism wore off, Jongdae slowly understood how lucky he is to have a partner like Han. They were able to cover each other’s weaknesses perfectly. Jongdae made up for what Han lacked in creativity, while Han attention to detail made up for Jongdae’s lack thereof.

Jongdae carefully slips into Kai’s office, and is met with the usual response.  

“I’m busy.”

“What’s new?” Jongdae deadpans. “I think I’m on the verge of a breakthrough.”

This gets Kai’s attention.

“Does Han approve of this message?” Kai furrows his brows.

“He generally doesn't approve anything that involves me talking to you, but he agrees with me.”

Kai rolls his eyes, but a there is a newfound excitement in them that Jongdae hasn’t seen in a while. They’ve been hovering on the edge for weeks now, and it was hard for any of them to keep the disappointment at bay. They’ve been hitting dead end after dead end, but Jongdae knows that his latest design is promising.  

“I’ll clear my schedule for after closing then. You can walk me through it.”

“Good. Also, is there any way I could get some air without being seen?”

“No,” Kai rolls his eyes. “Go back in there.”

“It’s stifling.”

“Write in your little diary of yours then.”

Jongdae thinks about that for a minute. He’s been so busy lately trying to create the perfect designs that he hasn’t written a thing. So much has happened since the last time he wrote, and there was a lot for him to record. It would keep him busy for at least a few hours and give him something to do with his nervous energy.

Before he leaves Jongdae pauses at the door.

“If this works,” Jongdae takes a deep breath. “That means I can go home, right?”

Kai looks into his eyes with the most sincerity Jongdae’s ever seen in the man.

“You can be assured that I’ll do my damned best.”

 

_March 4, 1939_

_It appears that for the first time in a very long time, there is hope. Here at the factory, many believe that hope is fleeting. I, on the other hand, will hold on to this hope._

_No matter what it takes,  I will return home soon._

 

 

 


	4. June 2018

Jongdae sits at the kitchen island staring pensively at the piece of paper sitting in front of him. He sighs dramatically for the tenth time in the last three minutes.

“If you don’t shut the fuck up I’m going to kick you out of your own house,” Kyungsoo fumes from across the table. He’s perched on a barstool reading the Wall Street Journal with his healthy breakfast. Kyungsoo looks like the epitome of class, and it makes Jongdae feel like a piece of shit. His faded flannel pajama pants and ripped Death Cab for Cutie shirt do nothing to redeem the breakfast ham and cheese hot pocket that was going currently cold. Kyungsoo and Jongin never fail to remind him that he often looks more like a homeless man from Brooklyn than the heir to a ridiculous fortune. Jongdae would argue with them, but to be honest, his friends were right. He’s never been a huge fan of living the rich life, and more importantly, hot pockets were fucking delicious.

“I’m distressed,” Jongdae attempts to reason.

After many years of friendship, Jongdae knows that his problems will never be more important than his best friend’s precious breakfast time. That doesn’t stop him from trying to wheedle sympathy out of Kyungsoo. It doesn’t work, and Kyungsoo’s eyes are still focused on the paper.

“You’re distressed? Really? I couldn’t tell.”

Jongdae let’s out a particularly annoying whine. He’s having a crisis and his friend has the audacity to ignore him? He automatically thinks, _what would Kyungsoo do?_ He quickly realizes how that doesn’t exactly work in this situation. Jongdae is all out of ideas. How the hell did he get into Harvard?

“I would like to kindly let you know that your sarcasm has gone unappreciated,” Jongdae pouts.

“I would like to kindly let you know that nobody fucking cares,” Kyungsoo sighs. “Jongdae, bar exams are over. We have job offers in hand and a month’s worth of time to kill for the first time in years. What is your problem, can you please explain?”

Kyungsoo’s tone insinuates that he really doesn’t want Jongdae to explain. Jongdae doesn’t care. He’s going to explain anyways.

“I have an interview today,” Jongdae says incredulously. “What the fuck am I doing? I already have a job.”

“You’re playing puppet to your father’s whims again, that’s what,” Kyungsoo deadpans. “I told you this before you scheduled the interview, yet here we are. A lot of your problems would be solved if you just listened to me instead of whining all the time. I don’t know how you haven’t realized this yet, we’ve been friends for twelve years.”

Jongdae once again doesn’t listen to a word Kyungsoo says.

 “Whatever, it’s just one day, right? This interview will get him off of my case and we can enjoy our month in peace.” Jongdae reasons Kyungsoo finally looks up from his newspaper. His glare is deadly.

“Why do I even bother with you? Jongdae for the hundredth time, take the job _you_ want. Not the one you think you should have or the one your father is forcing you to try for.” Kyungsoo gives him a meaningful look, hoping that the words will register for once. He’s come to realize that Jongdae needs to hear those words out loud at least once a day to keep the doubt from creeping back in.

“You’re right,” Jongdae nods with conviction. Kyungsoo sighs in relief. He probably won’t have to give another pep talk until 24 hours passes.

Jongdae continues to stare at the paper for a moment before he stands up and sticks it back on the fridge with a magnet. The gold embossing makes the words Sullivan and Cromwell stick out like a sore thumb.

During the summer he spent interning there, he loved his experience at the firm more than anything else he had done in the last eight years of his life. It would be foolish to pass up the opportunity to establish a career there, but the expectations of his family never allow him to rest easy. His father gets on his case about always being in fourth place, and as much as Jongdae knows that it’s about time to stop caring, it’s not as easy as he wishes it was.

He walks to his room to put on his freshly dry cleaned suit and two minutes later he’s walking out of his room looking like a million bucks.

“I thought you weren’t going to try?” Kyungsoo raises his eyebrows. Jongdae can sense another lecture coming on so he explains himself.

“There are people to impress at every corner of life, Kyungsoo. The interview is scheduled so I can’t just skip it. That would be professional suicide,” Jongdae points out.  

Kyungsoo shakes his head with small smile on his face. “Fine, just stop whining about the damn thing would you?”

“Yeah, yeah, I will.” Jongdae makes his way to the front door. “I’m heading out. Wish me luck.”

“Fail with flying colors, my dear friend,” Kyungsoo encourages. “We’re dragging Jongin out of his hell hole for dinner today so be back at a respectable time.”

Jongdae grunts an affirmative and gets onto the elevator.

He takes his time getting there, walking as slowly as possible and stopping three times for coffee, snacks and a copy of the New York Times. Somehow, he still manages to arrive a half hour earlier than he needs to. Sighing, he walks up to the elevator bank, thinking of what useless gaming app he should use to pass the time as he waits. Jongdae has been chronically early to everything for most of his life, so the number of useless games he has downloaded on his phone is frankly unhealthy. Hopefully the interview would start on time and he would be able to go home soon.

When the elevator finally arrives, Jongdae steps in and turns around to face forward. He’s the only one inside, but as the elevator doors begin to close, a hand flings itself between them. The elevator doors open and between them are a small man with a fluffy head of blonde hair comes flying in. He’s disheveled and unbalanced and before Jongdae can do anything about it, the man crashes into him.

“Holy shit,” the man gasps, staring at Jongdae with wide eyes. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

Jongdae feels something lukewarm and wet seeping through his shirt before he smells the strong scent of coffee. He doesn’t know what to say.

“Oh god it’s all over you, I’m so sorry that looks expensive as hell.”

It’s Givenchy, so yes, it is indeed expensive as hell. Jongdae doesn’t say this out loud because that is pretty rude, but a part of his heart breaks. He loves this shirt. The coffee sticks to his skin and feels incredibly uncomfortable. The two men stare at each other for a few seconds, at loss of where to go from there.

“Uh,” Jongdae begins. “It’s okay, I guess. I didn’t really want the job anyways.”

He internally groans. It comes out a lot more passive aggressively than Jongdae intends. Kyungsoo calls that voice the ‘wounded whine’. As much as Jongdae hates the term, he can’t deny that it’s a pretty accurate description of the sound. The small man’s eyes go even wider.

“You’re here for a job interview?” Jongdae can hear the guilt in the other man’s voice. He looks about Jongdae’s age, perhaps a little older.

“It’s okay, seriously.” Jongdae shakes his head and puts a little smile on his face, forcing brightness into his tone. He wasn’t very upset at all. To be honest, he was more worried about the stain on his shirt than making a good impression at the firm.

“I still feel so bad…” The other man tilts his head in thought. “Wait, let’s just switch shirts? We look like the same size!”

“No, it’s fine.” Jongdae chuckles a bit in amusement. “I’m serious, I already got my dream job. I’m just showing my face to keep up appearances.”

“In that case, your appearance is most definitely not kept up.” The man places all his things on the floor and begins unbuttoning his shirt quickly to reveal an incredibly toned torso. The man’s body is so perfect that it almost motivates Jongdae to get rid of the four boxes of Cocoa Pebbles he has on his grocery list. Jongdae stares at the half naked man in shock. He’s holding out his shirt for Jongdae to take with an amused expression.

“What are you doing?” Jongdae is shocked by the man’s boldness.

“Switch with me, come on.” Jongdae contemplates it for a few seconds before deciding to strip as well. The man probably wasn’t going to take no for an answer anyways. This is potentially the weirdest interaction Jongdae has had with a stranger in his life, but he wasn’t complaining. There was an alarmingly attractive man standing in front of him without a shirt on. This is far from the worst case scenario Jongdae had imagined in his head for today.

“What about you? You were in such a hurry, are you here for something important?” Jongdae motions towards the pile of things on the floor, including a laptop bag that was overflowing with stray papers.

“Nah, I’m just covering a story about the success of some random wealth management firm. They’re a breakaway from Morgan Stanley and they’ve been making hella bank since they peaced out.” The man takes Jongdae’s shirt and starts buttoning it up. Jongdae notices a New York Times key badge hanging off of the man’s slacks. He’s probably a journalist. The upbeat energy coming off of him suddenly made a lot of sense. It reminds Jongdae of his friends that worked at the Harvard Crimson while he was still an undergrad.

“One of my friends interned there a few years ago and apparently the managing partner fucks around a lot. If he’s as chill as he’s supposed to be, I’ll be okay.” The coffee stain is extremely obvious and he doesn’t even have a blazer to cover it up, but Jongdae takes his word for it. Jongdae would probably die at his father’s hands if he showed up to his interview in a stained shirt, so he really shouldn’t be thinking about it too much at all.

“Then why the hurry?” Jongdae puts on the unstained shirt. The material of the man’s shirt is cheap but it’ll do.

“They have free donuts,” the man shrugs. “I’m so hungry that my stomach is literally caving in on itself.”

The man picks his things back up and Jongdae presses the button for his floor.

“Man, what the fuck is this shirt made out of? It’s softer than butter.”

“It’s Givenchy.” The words spill out before he can stop himself, and Jongdae scratches behind his ear, feeling embarrassed. He probably sounds like a prick. “I’m Jongdae, by the way; aspiring lawyer. I figure you should know my name if you’re wearing my shirt.” Jongdae sighs internally. That didn’t sound any less pretentious.

“Baekhyun.” The man sticks his arm out for a handshake, unbothered. “Journalist at the New York Times.”

Jongdae shakes Baekhyun’s hand, but he can’t stop staring at his face. He doesn’t understand how someone can be so confidently attractive and adorably energetic at the same time. Baekhyun seems to notice Jongdae’s staring, because a tiny smirk appears on the other man’s face, almost as if he knows exactly what Jongdae is thinking.

The elevator dings, arriving on Jongdae’s floor.

“Read page 13,” Baekhyun says, pointing at the newspaper in Jongdae’s hand as he steps out. His smirk turns into a genuine smile. The change is so sudden; it gives Jongdae whiplash.

“Will do.” Jongdae gives him a tiny wave. “Wait how are we going to switch ba-”

The elevator doors shut before he can finish his sentence and Jongdae frowns. That shirt is one of his favorites and the coffee stain is most definitely removable. Givenchy stopped making that cut three seasons ago, and nothing else flatters his figure quite as well.

“Whatever,” Jongdae sighs and walks up to the receptionist, plastering a 100-watt smile onto his face. After taking a seat in the waiting room, Jongdae still has 15 minutes to kill. He uses it to think about the strange meeting he had in the elevator with Baekhyun. Curious, he decides to open his newspaper to page 13 and searches for Baekhyun’s name in a byline.

_SM Enterprise: Pioneering Change in the Shipbuilding Industry by Baekhyun Byun._

Jongdae re-reads the title and rolls his eyes as he skims the article. The line _“Jongchul Kim’s (CEO, SER Enterprise) revolutionary ideas have been shaping the shipbuilding industry into a more versatile place to do business.”_ is enough to make Jongdae lose interest and stop reading. If only the poor guy knew what kind of person his father really was.

It’s only a few more minutes of aimless flipping through the newspaper until someone calls him into the room. Standing up, he takes a deep breath and follows his interviewer, ready to have the most average interview of his life.

-

“So how was it?” Kyungsoo asks the minute he steps back into the house.

“Average.” Jongdae shrugs.

“Perfect,” Kyungsoo laughs. He pauses, taking in Jongdae’s appearance. “What the hell are you wearing?”

“Could you tell so easily? I’m impressed,” Jongdae sighs, glancing down at the wrinkled polyester shirt he’s sporting.

“It looks like it came from H&M, which I know because I shop there,” Kyungsoo points out. “But I also know that H&M is on par with the depths of fashion hell for you spoiled rich kids. You walked out in Givenchy, tell me everything.”

“Oh shut up, I’m not a fashion snob like Jongin. And some guy spilled coffee on me and forced me to switch shirts with him for the sake of my professionalism. It was strange, to say the least”

“He was hot, wasn’t he? I can see it on your face,” Kyungsoo asks, eyebrows raising. Of course he could tell. No one knew Jongdae better than he did.

“Why, are you interested?” Jongdae rolls his eyes, shrugging off his jacket and throwing it on the sofa. Kyungsoo winces a bit, but lets it go without nagging him to clean up. “Jongin would not be impressed.”

“Shut up. Please.” Kyungsoo glowers. Jongdae shakes his head in disbelief. Kyungsoo has never admitted it, but it’s no secret between the two of them that Kyungsoo has been in love with their best friend for _years._ After years of trying to get him to say something, Jongdae has just given up and decided to wait.  

“You’re hopeless, for god’s sake can you just tell him.”

“We’ve been over this, Jongdae,” Kyungsoo sighs. “How many times to I have to tell you that it’s just not my friendship at stake here, but _our_ friendship?”

“Don’t drag me into this.” Jongdae is sick of the excuse. He wasn’t the type of friend to be bother that his two best friends got together. Honestly, anything would be better than the Unresolved Sexual Tension that he has to deal with right now. It’s worse knowing that Jongin would say yes in a heartbeat. Jongdae pretty sure that Jongin has been in love with Kyungsoo even longer than Kyungsoo has with him.

“Whatever, tell me about this boy you fell for.” Kyungsoo ends the conversation. Jongdae leaves the topic alone. He wishes they had a fourth friend in their group so he could make bets on how long it would take them to get together.

“I mean, he was hot,” Jongdae wonders aloud. “But he also spilled coffee all over me because he was running to get free donuts.”

“I would spill coffee on you even if I weren’t running to get donuts, so I understand that,” Kyungsoo smirks. “The poor boy must have been hungry.”

“He also writes for the New York Times,” Jongdae elaborates. “He interviewed my dad and wrote about how much of a hero he is.”

“Deal breaker,” Kyungsoo says immediately and it makes Jongdae chuckle. Over the years, he’s managed to get Kyungsoo to dislike his father almost as much as he does. It makes Kyungsoo the perfect outlet for all the pent up frustration that comes along with being a member of the Kim family.

“My dad is now somehow interfering with my non-existent love life,” Jongdae groans. “Where is the limit?”

“Speaking of Mr. Kim the Great, he called the house line,” Kyungsoo mentions off-handedly jerking his head towards the island.

“Since when do have a house line?” Jongdae furrows his eyebrows. He’s almost positive that they don’t.

“Since your dad decided that we should have a house line, when else? I guess someone came to install it during dead week and we didn’t even realize.”

Jongdae takes a look at the sleek cordless sitting on the table. It blends right in with the rest of the penthouse’s modern décor, obviously a calculated decision on his dad’s part. “It’s 2018, nobody has a house line.”

“We’re talking about your overbearing father whose phone calls you haven’t picked up in months. It’s probably a last ditch effort to get you to talk to him.”

“You mean to criticize everything I’m doing in my life? I’m disconnecting it,” Jongdae announces, stomping over to the phone with conviction. It’s wireless and he can’t find the button to turn it off. His father was a genius.

“Look at you saving the day,” Kyungsoo deadpans sarcastically as he watches Jongdae struggling with amusement. “Get ready for dinner, we have to leave soon. We can just throw it in a trash can on the way to the restaurant or something.”

“Brilliant.”

It takes Jongdae 30 minutes and a constant stream of Kyungsoo complaining to get ready. When he finally emerges from his room, he sees Kyungsoo and Jongin sitting on the couch, shooting him icy looks. They’re awfully close to each other and Jongdae has to stop himself from rolling his eyes at them. Maybe he should have stayed in his room for longer.

“I’m sorry, beauty is pain okay?” Jongdae smirks.

“He’s just lashing out because he lost his precious Givenchy shirt to some journalist who has a crush on his father.”

“Wow, that sounds like a rough day,” Jongin sarcastically remarks. “But I’m really hungry and I need to eat, like, two hours ago.”

“Where are we eating today?” Jongdae asks. His phone starts buzzing and he rolls his eyes after seeing his father’s name on the Caller ID. It reminds him to pick up the wireless home phone off the island.

“I wasn’t being serious about throwing it in the trash, Jongdae.” Kyungsoo’s jaw drops.

“It was a great idea,” Jongdae shrugs. Kyungsoo sighs, knowing there was no way of stopping him. “Honestly there’s probably no other way to get rid of this thing. It looks unbreakable.”

“I need to start keeping my thoughts to myself,” Kyungsoo laments. “Why do you never take my actual advice seriously?”

“I’m all for the destruction of overpriced household items purchased by Mr. Kim. Remember when we took a baseball bat to those secret security cameras he installed two years ago? Now that was a fun time.” Jongin smiles evilly.

Kyungsoo exhales evenly, forcing himself to keep from getting frustrated. It was too early for his friends to be acting like 12 year olds already.

“Where are we going for dinner?” Jongdae asks, cradling the phone to his chest like a baby as they head downstairs.

“Some expensive as fuck tapas place that you, or more specifically your dad, will be paying for.” Jongin rubs his hands together in excitement.

“Speaking of which, you can’t avoid your dad forever. Talk to him once and he’ll leave you alone for a few months like always,” Kyungsoo nags him as they exit the apartment building. The air is hot and Jongdae is glad to have ditched his heavy suit jacket from earlier in the day. They’re hit with a gust of hot air and Jongdae’s face scrunches up in displeasure. There’s nothing he hates more than the stifling heat of the summer.

“Maybe next week. I’m just too damn tired today.”

The restaurant they end up in is a hole in the wall filled with fancily dressed gentry and bigwigs in suits. They order way too much food off the menu, and the waitress keeps treating them like they’re uncultured idiots. She gives them dirty looks every time she comes over to check on their table, so Jongdae and Jongin decide to retaliate. They slowly start to get louder and louder, and it’s obvious that they’re starting to annoy the snobby rich people by speaking at a volume that is above a whisper. Kyungsoo sits and watches it all unfold silently with his head bowed in shame. He needs to find new friends.

Before long, the three of them have eaten more food that Jongdae even believed to be possible and the waitress is looking at them with an apprehensive smile. It’s so forced that Jongdae has to stop himself from laughing.

“Would you like your check?” she asks, annoyance clear in her voice.

“I think we can go for some dessert, what do you think Jongdae?” Jongin rubs his hands together in excitement and starts sifting through the dessert menu. A look of surprise passes over the waitresses face and Jongdae has to hold his laughter in. His friend has a bottomless stomach, yet he manages to stay in the best shape out of anyone he knows. Jongdae doesn’t think he’s ever met anyone that is more genetically blessed.

“You’re a monster.” Kyungsoo is leaning against the wall next to him and his eyes are half closed. He’s taking careful breaths, as if filling his lungs fully would be too painful.  

“I’m with Kyungsoo on this one, Jongin,” Jongdae chuckles. “But if you want it, more power to you.”

Jongin does, in fact, want dessert, which he goes ahead and orders much to the waitress’s shock. Jongdae pulls out his card and hands it to the waitress. It’s a premium VIP black card. The waitress’ jaw drops. She definitely was not expecting that.

“You can go ahead and run this while you’re at it.” The waitress nods silently, at a loss for words. Even for the kind of clientele they host, the bill the three of them racked up must add up to an amount that the restaurant isn’t used to charging for one meal.

“So down for the bars after this?” Jongdae jokes. He’s mostly directing the question to Kyungsoo, whose eyes are fully closed now.

“Shut the fuck up, I’m sleeping.”

“Let’s go next week. I’m trying to get fired so I need to start taking more time off.” Jongin continues sifting through the dessert menu with interest while Kyungsoo’s eyes snap open in shock. Jongdae’s jaw drops.

“What are you trying to do?” Kyungsoo shrieks. “I know you’re frustrated but this is a rash decision.”

Jongin laughs and rolls his eyes, “It’s fine, Kyungsoo. I have a plan.”

Jongdae and Kyungsoo exchange a skeptical glance.

“Jongin, maybe we should talk about this a little more. I don’t want you to ruin your life just because you’re filling a little frustrated.”

“A _little_ frustrated? I have never hated my life more, give me a break Kyungsoo.”

Jongdae tunes the couples quarrel out as the waitress comes back with his card. After scribbling down a hefty tip and giving her an empty thanks, he breaks them out of their argument so they can go home. He hopes she feels guilty for treating them like roadside trash. In her defense, however, Jongdae has to admit that he probably would have done the same thing if three hooligans walked into his fancy restaurant.

They’re far too exhausted to make the trek home after all the food they just ate. He really needs to start working out. Instead of walking, they haul into an Uber that has disco lights running in the back seat with the latest EDM banger blasted on high volume. The driver is obviously prepared to be driving around party-goers for the rest of the night, and Jongdae couldn’t be farther from that target demographic. He wonders how long ago it’s been since he’s partied for the sake of having fun. The three of them have become too accustomed to frequenting grungy bars to drown their sorrows in cheap wine and emo rock music.

When they’re finally back home Jongdae chances a glance at his phone to see fourteen missed call notifications. It’s enough to burst his food coma induced bubble and remind him that he has to break the news to his dad about accepting the job at Sullivan and Cromwell.

There was never a day that Jongdae would deny that he is blessed. His world has been full of designer clothing and black cards with sky high limits, and he would be lying to say that he hasn’t taken advantage of it. It’s all peachy keen from the outside, but everything changes the minute you get closer. His two hands aren’t enough to count the number of friends that have betrayed him for the sake of their benefit, and there was a certain element of shadiness that came along with anyone he met. But the worst of them all had to be _the_ _expectations_. Those were the worst.

In his world, it wasn’t just his family that put a burden on his shoulders. It turns out the kid who sat in the corner of his 10th grade math class, he cares. And his mom? Yeah, she cares too. And they’ll tell you all about it at the grocery store when all you want to do is find an avocado that isn’t two seconds from rotting. Some irrelevant boy and their irrelevant mother will tell you that “they just feel so bad that Jongdae couldn’t quite make it even though their son did”, because it’s not bad enough that the snobbiest grocery store in Manhattan only sells rotting avocados.

It gets worse when Mr. Smith who sits on the board of his dad’s company comes up to him and says, “I’m sorry you didn’t make Harvard Law, Jongdae. We had high hopes for you.” He knows he shouldn’t care, but it burns just a little regardless.

It gets infinitely worse when his brother starts looking at him with pity and his mother is ashamed of telling her friends about her second son. When his family has to tip-toe around him because they’re disappointed, but they don’t have the guts to say it straight to Jongdae’s face.

Jongdae convinces himself that he got over it the third time his mom ‘forgot’ to invite him to a family dinner party. He makes an effort to believe that his mom is telling the truth when she says that she just got busy and forgot. He doesn’t dwell on the fact that those just happened to be the nights that important people were visiting. It’s an effort, but he has to force himself to stop thinking that his mother was avoiding putting ‘the family disappointment’ on display.

It doesn’t matter that he knows it’s true.

He rolls over and the tattered journal sitting on his nightstand catches his eye. He’s been reading through it at a steady pace. He still doesn’t remember how he came across the thing in the first place on that drunken night, but the man who wrote it had a tumultuous yet fascinating life. Every time he opens it, he can’t help but feel like his problems are irrelevant. Reading about this man facing what he did and continuing to persevere reminds him that he has no reason to give up.

 

**_August 12, 1939_ **

_A year ago, if someone had told me that Tokyo would become my home, I would not have believed them for a second. However, as the days pass by, this once foreign place is becoming more familiar to me than the back of my hand. Han and I are making significant progress, but only time will tell how successful our designs truly are. If I were to look back, I’d think myself to be a greedy man. Today all I can hope for is for this all of this to be over. If this war carries on for much longer, too many innocent people will lose their lives. I hope for all of this to end, and as of now, this is the only wish I will allow myself to have._


	5. September 1939

“This is it,” Jongdae breathes, eyes roving over the piece of paper. He wonders if he’s gone mad. It’s been weeks since Jongdae has been able to tell his own designs apart. Without Han’s help, he would have gone crazy much sooner.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself there. We still need to test. And re-test. And then maybe re-test again.” Han tries to stay serious, but he can’t keep the smile off of his face. After more than five months of constant trial and error, they’re finally onto something.

Jongdae stops pacing and takes a deep breath. “Are you ready?”

Han meets his gaze with confidence. “As I’ll ever be.”

They both walk into Kai’s office with conviction.

“Go away, I’m busy.” The tall man is hunched over a stack of papers. Jongdae feels a little worry creeping into him. The last few months have been long and hard, and it’s left the three of them without a moment to breathe, much less rest. Kai was working just as much as Han and himself, but without the added comfort of company. Jongdae wouldn’t have been able to survive in his tiny office alone if Han hadn’t come along.

The stack of papers Kai scrutinizes is one of the many stacks on the man’s desk. Both Han and Jongdae have noticed the stacks growing in both number and size, but could do nothing to help. They had their own battles to fight, after all.

“You might want to hear this, actually,” Han starts carefully, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice. Kai’s head snaps up.

“Don’t tell me…” Kai’s tired eyes sparkle a bit. The excitement is contagious. Jongdae locks eyes with him for a moment and gives him a meaningful nod. He can’t keep the grin off of his face.

“I think, my dear boss, that we have found the solution to all of our problems.”

\--

Jongdae stalks over to Kai’s office and throws the door open. “Let me go down there.”

Han runs in after him rolling his for the hundredth time that week. They’ve been having to wait until the factory closed to make any progress with their testing, and it’s left Jongdae with too much restless energy. He just wants to _do_ something.

Kai looks up from his paperwork. His piercing eyes have dulled since the first day Jongdae met the man. The bags under his eyes are growing day by day. Jongdae and Han have whispered to each other during weeks since their designs went into production, but they have no idea how to help the other man without overstepping their bounds.

“Too dangerous, Jongdae. I’m not risking anything. Especially not now. Not when we’re so close,” Kai sighs. There’s no bite in his tone and it causes Jongdae to worry a little bit more. Their boss has lost his classic spark. He glances at the stacks of papers on Kai’s desk. If they kept growing at the same rate, Kai would need another desk soon. “Factory hours end in two hours. Just wait it out, a little patience never hurt anybody.”

 “We have nothing to do, Kai. We’ve been sitting around doing absolutely nothing of worth for _two weeks_.”

Kai gets out of his seat and takes a deep breath. He shakes a little bit of the stress from his body and drops back into his seat.

“I know,” Kai chuckles. It’s a sound that Jongdae hasn’t heard in a while. “I wanted to give you two a break. You’ve been working very hard for the last few months.”

Jongdae couldn’t believe his ears. The Kai that was sitting in front of him felt like a stranger.

Han searches for the correct words. “What happened to you? Are you broken?”

“You’ve gone soft on us,” Jongdae sputters.

Kai rolls his eyes. “I’m not inhumane, you idiots.”

He fidgets with the papers on his desk, opening his mouth a few times as if he’s about to say something. The words don’t seem to come out. Suddenly everything makes sense. Jongdae has known Kai for too long to miss what’s happening, and he can’t believe it’s taken him this long.

“Oh lord. Don’t tell me,” Jongdae laughs. Han furrows his brows in confusion.

“You’re too prideful to ask for help, aren’t you?” Jongdae rolls his eyes at the olive skinned man, who in turn hunches farther down in his seat. Han makes a noise of understanding.

“I have never met a man as simultaneously stupid and smart as you Kai,” Han exhales under his breath. His brows furrow even further. He looks almost angry at this point, delicate features distorted into an expression that Jongdae has never seen before. “You are practically dying, and you won’t ask us for help? Are we really that incompetent in your eyes, or is your ego just too big?”

“And here I was thinking all of this was work we simply weren’t allowed to help with.” Jongdae gestures at the mess on Kai’s desk. Kai sputters a bit, and fails yet again to form a coherent sentence.

“Deep breath,” Han commands. Kai complies, sucking in a large gulp of air and slowly letting it out.

“I need help,” Kai finally admits. The words seem to cause him physical pain to utter, but at least he said them.

Jongdae feels a mix of pity and amusement at the sight of his friend’s struggles. It’s refreshing to be on the opposite side of a crisis for the first time in forever.

“What do you need, boss?” Jongdae grins. Kai’s long arms flail in the direction of the stacks on his desk. Jongdae pushes further. “Where do we start?”

Kai simply shrugs lifelessly. His entire body is hunched over and even his hair looks sad. Jongdae never knew of that even being possible.

“Dear god,” Han whispers. “Forget helping him with work. We need to get him out of here.”

“I have just the right idea.” A mischievous smirk appears on Jongdae’s face. A look of fear crosses Han’ face.

“Do I even want to know?”

“Don’t worry, you’ll find out in good time.”

\--

It turns out, that Han did not, in fact, want to know what Jongdae had planned. He realizes this for sure after reaching the bottom of his fourth glass of liquor.

“Why am I here?” Kai slurs. His head was heavy and for some very odd reason, he couldn’t keep it from repeatedly hitting the table in front of him. It was just far too much effort to keep it up. “With _you guys_.”

“There’s the jolly old boss that we love,” Jongdae chortles loudly. “Admit it boss, we are your only friends.”

Kai stays silent, refusing to admit anything. He had no defense, they all knew it was true.

“You two are belligerent.” Han slams his fist down on the table for impact.

“You’re the one who’s talking,” An unfamiliar voice says behind them.

Jongdae’s ears perk up at the sound and he searches for the source of the words. Within seconds, he easily finds the judgmental stare of the bar owner’s daughter. “Excuse me, sirs. I hate to end your celebration, however, we are now closed. If you could please kindly get out, we would very much appreciate it.”

Han frowns up at her and sings, “Fifteen minutes? Pleaseeee?”

Her expression softens a bit. Jongdae smirks. No one was safe from Han’ charms. He was far too handsome for his own good. So much so that all the young ladies stare at him when they’re walking to and from work, whispering and giggling to each other. Jongdae can imagine the man stealing the hearts of all the young maidens in Beijing.

“Well I suppose…” The young lady shrugs and a slight blush dusts her cheeks. “Just fifteen, nothing more.” Her voice is stern, but there is a smile on her face. She turns away and walks off.

“You devil,” Kai grins. Before Jongdae can react, another glass of liquor is emptied down the younger man’s throat.

Jongdae wonders how he turned out to be the most of the three. Perhaps it was his trauma reminding him with every sip that alcohol was one of the reasons he was sitting here in the first place. With the way things were looking, Jongdae probably would have ended up here regardless, but he can’t help but have regrets. Leaving without saying goodbye to his mother was cruel, despite the fact that Jongdae had no choice. It’s hard to think of the pain he had caused to both his parents and friends. Sehun and Chanyeol were likely blaming themselves for letting him go home that night.

Admitting it is hard, but he cannot deny that a part of him has fallen in love with Tokyo. As much as he loved his home, something about the Tokyo called to him. The city glimmered with opportunity, challenging his intelligence and tempting his sense of curiosity. One day, long after the war is over, when sentiments peace and understanding have returned to both Korea and Japan, Jongdae vows bring his friends to this beautiful place. There is no doubt in his mind that Minseok, Sehun and Chanyeol would love it just as much as he does.

Busan. His heart yearns for a reminder of home, but sadly there isn’t much of it left in him. Memories that he once thought to be burned indefinitely into his mind are slowly fading. Circumstances have led his thoughts to wander elsewhere.

At the sight of Kai and Han giggling incoherently, he wonders how his friends are doing. There is a small part of him that hopes they were all safe in Korea, but it’s a foolish thought. Jongdae has seen quite a few Korean noble children hanging around the Tokyo. The gentry was likely baited with higher ranks in the army, but nonetheless, they were forced away from home and onto a battleground. Every time he a stray noble, he entertains the possibility of Minseok, Chanyeol, or Sehun are walking the same streets as him.

“Time’s up, sirs,” The bar owner’s daughter chirps, breaking Jongdae out of his thoughts. “You all better head home, curfew is approaching soon.”

“Thank you.” Jongdae bows his head at the lady. She returns his smile and bends in a little closer.

“Carry on, sir. Stay strong.” The lady whispers in Korean. Jongdae’s eyes widen in shock. The young lady giggles and puts a finger over her lips.

It’s a secret he will gladly keep.

By some miracle of God, Jongdae is able to drag his two dead weight friends back home. It is less than proper for a man of Kai’s status to be sleeping on a cot the worker’s quarter of Tokyo, but there isn’t much else Jongdae can do. Curfew was hitting soon, and he had no idea where Kai even lived. The last thing he needs is to be caught by the Japanese law enforcement. Koreans faced a harsher penalty, even for the smallest crimes. Getting caught would lead to the discovery of the kind of work they were doing. If anyone found out, Kai’s business would face trouble and he would likely be tried for treason. Gallivanting the city intoxicated was daring and Jongdae can’t shake the fear until they are safe in his room. Thankfully the few citizens of the Tokyo that remained on the streets this late were either too preoccupied or too liberal to care.

Jongdae takes a deep breath and glances over at his two friends, cuddled up on one small cot together. He lets out a short chuckle and gets into bed himself. Kai was probably going to kill Jongdae for getting him that drunk, but Jongdae has no regrets. A night of relaxation was much needed for all three of them.

Shutting off his mind is difficult tonight. Alcohol always over activates the introspective part of his mind that he’s been trying to shut off as much as possible. Thinking too much never left him in a good mood since coming to Japan, so he forces himself to stop before the nostalgia turns into resentment. Jongdae pulls the covers on himself and feels the exhaustion come over him like a wave. Without letting his mind go on for any longer, he shuts his eyes and falls right to sleep.

\--

Sunday morning’s work alarm sounds especially loudly today. It felt almost as if the bells knew that the three of them had drowned a few too many sorrows last night. Jongdae hears Kai groan and flail at the sounds. There is a clear sound of limbs hitting each other and a groan of pain. That cot was far too small for two grown men.

“Up we get boys. We had enough fun last night, time to go to work.”

Jongdae walks over to the other cot and starts poking at the two other men, resulting in even more groaning.

Han rolls out of bed first, he was used to it, after all. Kai on the other hand continues to flail around, spreading his limbs to occupy the newly empty space.

“You’re such a child. Kai, all those papers on your desk aren’t going to read themselves,” Han calls groggily, getting dressed at the speed of light.

The word ‘papers’ seems to hit a chord in Kai’s brain, because the main jolts up almost instantly.

“What time is it? We need to open the factory.” Kai blinks the tiredness out of his eyes and jumps out of bed frantically.

“It’s Sunday, you fool. No one is working but us today.”

Realization hits him, and he slouches back down on to the bed. “My head hurts, save me,” Kai whines. “This is all your fault.” Kai glares at Jongdae, while the later laughs mercilessly.

“Your head might be pounding, but your heart feels better. Admit it.”

Kai stays silent. Jongdae smirks in response, he won.

“How about…” Kai starts, fidgeting with the thin blanket he’s sleeping under so that it covers more of his long body. “We take the day off?”

“Excuse me?” Han scoffs. “Who are you and what have you done with my dear boss?”

“My head hurts. And I think I’m slightly intoxicated. Still,” Kai grunts.

Jongdae can’t keep from laughing.

“We could all use the rest, anyways. Let’s at least go in a little later today?”

Jongdae and Han can’t disagree with that. It’s been months since any of them have slept properly.

“I’m going to go home and sleep in my bed then. I’ll meet you both there in the afternoon.” Kai rises and gathers his things, getting ready to step out. Jongdae and Han immediately jump at him before he walks out in his current state.

“Take off your waistcoat and wear your hat a little lower,” Han advises, crowding Kai’s space to adjust his clothing.

“Walk out with the rest of the men and try your best to blend in,” Jongdae adds. “If anyone asks questions, just use your authority on them. You know better than anyone how to act like a pompous brat, anyways.”

Jongdae often forgets that Kai was in fact younger than him. Lately, more than ever, it’s been difficult not to treat his boss like a little brother. As much as Kai pretends to hate it, Jongdae is pretty sure that secretly, he appreciates being cared for. Something tells Jongdae that he’s never had much of that in his life before. Running an entire factory at such a young age means there was most likely no room for a proper childhood. Despite having much more money, Kai was forced to grow up just as quickly the poor kids from his neighborhood.

“You forget that I’ve lived here my entire life. Worry not, I’ll be fine.” Kai waves them off with a slight smile. “Get some rest.”

Kai walks over to the door and places one hand on the doorknob before turning back to look at them. “Thank you both. For everything. I mean it, really.”

“Anytime boss,” Han laughs. “Now get home in one piece and don’t make us worry.”

“Of course, who do you think I am?” Kai grins and steps out, closing the door softly behind him.

“I think our boss is back?” Jongdae laughs, looking over at Han with a raised eyebrow.

“He sure is, and thank God for that.”

\--

Weeks of waiting pass by. Production carries on at the fastest pace possible, but a project of this scale takes time. Jongdae and Han try their best to help Kai in any capacity, and it had them answering to Kai’s every beck and call. It’s a funny concept to Jongdae, how his definition of normalcy had changed so much in just over a year. The thought of being _happy_ to see Kai acting arrogant is baffling to him.

“We have a problem.” Kai barges into their office one late afternoon on a Friday. Jongdae and Han have been eagerly watching the clock for the factory to clear out so they could begin testing, and it’s been hard to focus on work.  

“Can we meet in your office then?” Han whines. “I barely have space to move my feet even with just this midget in the room.”

“Rude,” Jongdae intones without looking up from the documents he’s reviewing. Before the two of them started helping Kai with his mysterious “paperwork”, Jongdae thought he had an idea of what was in store for them. Little did he know that “paperwork” means anything from legal documents to project inquiries. The documents have no order whatsoever. It seems as though Kai has been throwing papers in random piles as they come in. Just a few days of the new work made Jongdae understand why Kai was so exhausted earlier. Jongdae has been required to solve at least four vastly different problems per hour. The feat is almost more exhausting than his earlier design responsibilities.

“We have a problem,” Kai repeats sternly. His chiseled features are sharper than usual and his eyes are ice cold. Jongdae drops what he is doing and stands instantly. Kai’s expression says it all. Something is very wrong.

“Well,” Han raises his eyebrows, showing the same anxiousness that Jongdae was feeling. “Spit it out.”

“I have been summoned to a meeting with the Japanese Army’s Chief General,” Kai begins. “He wants me to bring the team behind the ideas. He’s got questions. _Technical ones._ ”

Kai sinks down onto their desk. He looks awfully tired. They all do.

“I’ve been keeping you hiding up here for a reason. Using two prisoners of war to design military equipment? What was I thinking? This is so incredibly illegal. My god, the minute they find out, we’ll all end up in jail.”

“We could just teach you everything,” Jongdae suggests. It’s a long shot, but he can’t think of any other way.

“I am well known in the Tokyo, Jongdae. Do you really think that they would believe that I have suddenly become a genius warship engineer?”

Jongdae shrugs sheepishly. No other thoughts come to mind. Japan has made him tired and he hates to admit it, but his brain is just a duller than it used to be.

The room goes silent again and Jongdae realizes that Han has not said a word. When he looks over at his friends he sees the other’s eyebrows slightly furrowed with his thin lips molded into a smirk. Jongdae knows that look, and he doesn’t like it one bit. That look has never led to anything but trouble. Jongdae knows it so well that he knows exactly what is coming next.

“I think I have an idea,” Han hums, his smirk growing into a full on smile.

“Oh god help us,” Jongdae and Kai chime in unison.

 

 **_November 28_ ** **_ th _ ** **_, 1939_ **

_So much has changed. So much continues to change. I find myself becoming comfortable and content. It is quite honestly the most frightening thing I have ever felt. I do not belong here in The Tokyo, yet it has slowly and surely become my home. Kai and Han have become my friends. Working day in and day out in a secret room at the factory has become my life. Not only has the world changed, but I also have changed along with it. There is no end in sight, and no matter how hard I search, I am unable to find my loved ones. As time goes on, I think endlessly about if I should just give in and start a new life here._

_It is the scariest thought that has ever entered my mind._

 

 


	6. August 2018

“And that’s about all you need to know about the Criminal Defense and Investigations Group!”

Jongdae is standing in the middle of his new office feeling incredibly lost. Hands full with a sky high stack of papers that are ready to tip over at any moment, he tries to avoid tripping and making a fool of himself in front of his new colleagues. The office is bustling with activity and there are associates and paralegals running all over the place. The undercurrent of energy is something Jongdae has missed during his time at school. He’s always preferred the grind of working opposed to the suffering that comes along with studying for hours on end.

“That’s all?” Jongdae asks timidly, trying to be polite. ‘That’s all’ in reality meant three hours of orientation information that his new boss, Yixing, threw at him without breaks.  The only way he can describe Yixing was eccentric. The man wore a permanent smile and had more enthusiasm than anyone he’s ever met in his life. The first question he asked Jongdae was about his zodiac sign. He then launched into some long explanation about how their relationship will have some bad energy entering from the East in the coming month, and to watch out.

“Yes, all that’s left is to meet the rest of the team!” Yixing exclaims as he continues to walk Jongdae around the office in what seems to be aimless circles. His arms are starting to get tired, and he’s hoping that someone will show him to a desk soon. “Most of them are out of the office right now doing case work, but I _can_ introduce you to your mentor!”

Jongdae wonders if Yixing always speaks with exclamation points at the end of his sentences. He’s somehow managed to seek out the most morbid company possible in his personal life, so he doesn’t know how to process the constant enthusiasm. It’s only been a few hours and he’s already exhausted. He can’t even use his go to ‘What Would Kyungsoo Do?’ process because Kyungsoo would have likely punched Yixing in the face two hours ago.

Yixing leads him to an office in the corner and knocks twice. He doesn’t wait for an answer before opening it.

“Why do you even bother knocking?” A man with slicked back blonde hair sits at the desk, shuffling around papers. The office itself has windows covering two walls and is filled with expensive looking furniture. This guy must be important.

“Luhan, this is Jongdae. Jongdae, Luhan,” Yixing introduces. “This is your mentor, Jongdae. You’ll be spending quite a bit of time with him, so get to know him well! I’ll be going now, I have places to be!”

The exclamations feel even more pronounced than before, and Jongdae has to try incredibly hard for the grimace that he’s feeling inside not to show up on his face. He must not be doing a good job, because the minute closes the door behind him, Luhan starts laughing.

“Oh, you’re cringing, you poor thing,” Luhan barks, mouth opening wide. He was rather attractive when Jongdae first saw him, but his laugh is pretty ugly. “Don’t worry, he’s like that with all new hires. It wears off in a week or two.”

“Thank god. And it’s nice to meet you!” Jongdae smiles back. “Uh, so, what exactly is your role at the firm?” Jongdae asks casually while finding the nearest flat surface to dump the stack of papers on. With this kind of office, Luhan must be partner level like Yixing, but he looks way too young.

“Senior Associate,” Luhan smirks, likely knowing exactly what Jongdae was thinking. Jongdae’s jaw drops.

“No way. How the hell did you manage this office?”

“A few strategic bets here and there, you know, the usual,” Luhan grins. Jongdae does not know what ‘the usual’ is. Maybe he should figure that out soon, because Luhan seems to be reaping the benefits of ‘the usual’ pretty well. “I’ve gotten pretty lucky here, I guess. You did too, I suppose. You’ll be spending quite a bit of time here for the next eternity.”

If Luhan is as cool of a guy as he seems, then Jongdae wouldn’t mind that at all.

“But wear sunscreen, because these windows are gorgeous, but you’ll burn like a motherfucker.”

-

Jongdae should have expected it, but his first couple days as the newest junior assistant on their team means that he’s not actually a junior assistant. It means that he’s an intern, and that he has to do everything an intern would do. On top of the studying Luhan assigns him, which is a fucking lot.  

“Intern, it’s time for a coffee run,” A loud booming voice crowds the soundspace of his tiny cubicle.

“Chanyeol, I’m not a fucking intern,” Jongdae groans. “You literally started working here two days after me.”

Since Chanyeol is returning to the same team after an internship, he gets seniority, making Jongdae the token new guy. Last summer Jongdae was two floors down in the Kibum Kim-led Mergers & Acquisitions litigation group. He loved his team and grew to tolerate Kibum’s quirks, but the work just wasn’t right for him. Kibum still shows up on their floor all the time and never fails to stop by and say hi and ask him a series of Way Too PersonalTM questions. As much as Jongdae loves seeing his old boss- wait no, that’s a lie. Jongdae hates seeing his old boss.

“Seniority motherfuckerrrrrrr,” Chanyeol hoots. He’s potentially one of the loudest people Jongdae has had the displeasure of meeting. The man sticks out like a sore thumb wherever he goes. He reminds Jongdae of those inflatable tube men outside of car dealerships - lanky, with absolutely no control over his limbs. Jongdae has no idea how he managed to get hired. “Double shot soy cappuccino with two pumps of sugar free vanilla, please and thank you.”

Chanyeol turns on his heel and flails away without another word. Jongdae wonders if he even knows how to walk normally. With a sigh, he gets up from his desk to make the rounds.

“Here to take your coffee order, Sir,” Jongdae bows dramatically as he enters Luhan’s office.

“Just a grandy latte for me,” Luhan smiles.

“Grande?”

“Or is it vonti? Damn, I can never keep these Starbucks sizes straight.”

“Bro, do you want a small, medium or large?” Jongdae rolls his eyes.

“Medium is perfect, thanks.”

“Is anyone else in the office that I should grab something for?”

“Oh yes, Yixing!” Luhan exclaims pulling one of his many desk drawers open and fishing around for something. He pulls out a small slip of paper with something printed on it. “This is Yixing’s order, just hand it to the barista and say sorry _at least_ seven times.”

Jongdae moves forward to grab the slip, feeling slightly apprehensive.

_Hazelnut Mocha Coconutmilk Macchiato, ADD 2 scoops protein powder, ADD espresso shot, prepared upside down with ristretto, ADD 3 pumps hazelnut syrup + 2 pumps skinny mocha sauce, EXTRA nutmeg powder, EXTRA dark chocolate curls._

“What the fresh fuck?” Jongdae stares at the piece of paper, reading it over and over. This is pure insanity.

“Yixing discovered the Starbucks app a few months ago, and he’s been calling himself a fucking potion master,” Luhan shudders. “More like poison master if you ask me.”

“Is he okay?” Jongdae has been meaning to ask this question for almost a week, and this was probably the most perfect time.

“Absolutely not, but we love him anyways.”

And here he was thinking that Kibum was the quirky one. The only relatively normal person he’s met since working here is Luhan.

Thankfully the nearest Starbucks is only a stone’s throw away from the office. More thankfully, the coffee shop is relatively empty, saving him the trauma of having to make this embarrassment of an order in front of others.

Jongdae approaches the barista with the biggest smile he can manage and looks for a nametag.

“Hi...Johnny!” Jongdae finds his inner Yixing from the depths of his soul and channels it.

“Yo,” the Barista nods. “What would you like?”

“I’ll have a tall double soy cappuccino, a grande latte and a-” Jongdae digs around in the pockets of his suit jacket for the dreaded slip of paper. “Whatever this is, I guess.”

Johnny The Barista takes the slip of paper from him with raised eyebrows. He glances up and gives Jongdae a particularly withering glare and then proceeds to read the entire order. _Loudly_. That’s when Jongdae realizes that he’s forgotten the ‘say sorry seven times’ part of Luhan’s instructions.

Right now, Jongdae would very much like to cease to exist. He can hear movement behind him, there’s definitely more people in line now and they were definitely laughing at him. Jongdae didn’t suffer for eight years at two different Ivy League colleges to get publicly roasted at a Starbucks, but here he was anyways.

After struggling to reload his card for another minute and almost disintegrating under Johnny the Barista’s glare, he finally finds a nice corner to hide in until his stupid drinks are ready. He intensely stares at nothing on his phone, making himself look immersed in work. There was no part of him that wanted to be acknowledged as a human being at the moment.

“That looks like some hard work there,” a familiar voice cuts him out of his internal meltdown. He stares another moment at his screen. Fuck. It’s black. “No wonder you need protein powder in your smoothie.”

Jongdae glances up hesitantly and instantly matches the familiar voice with a familiar face.

“Baekhyun?”

“You remember my name,” Baekhyun smirks. His hair was deep red now, different than the blonde he was sporting when they originally met. Jongdae doesn’t know whether to appreciate how attractive it looks or pray for Baekhyun’s scalp. He settles for a little bit of both.

“It’s only fair that I remembered the name of the man who stole my Givenchy shirt.”  

“Sorry about that.” Baekhyun scratches behind his head a little in embarrassment. It melts Jongdae’s heart into a puddle. “I didn’t realize how stupid it was to not exchange numbers until after. Good thing we met again, I guess it’s fate.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Jongdae’s palms are sweating and he’s trying not to stutter. He’s always had a bad habit of developing unhealthy attraction to hot strangers, and Baekhyun was too hot for his own good. Especially with this new red hair. Yeah, Jongdae really likes the red hair.

“Anyways, I have your shirt dry cleaned and stain free,” Baekhyun grins.

Baekhyun reaches out and brushes his hand over Jongdae’s. He instantly freezes before he realizes that Baekhyun was maneuvering his thumb to unlock his phone. Within seconds, Baekhyun is entering his number into Jongdae’s address book, and all he can do is stare with his mouth open. Baekhyun uses Jongdae’s phone to call himself, and finally deposits the phone back into Jongdae’s frozen hands.

“Now I have your number.” Baekhyun holds up his phone and wiggles it. “I’ve been wanting this for a while.”

Baekhyun’s tone leaves some room for interpretation, but Jongdae isn’t brave enough to guess.

“Yeah for the shirt,” Jongdae mumbles.

“No, not really for the shirt. It was for other reasons,” Baekhyun smirks before leaning in a little closer. “And none of them are very innocent.”

  
Jongdae’s jaw drops once again and before he panics to come up with a witty response, Johnny The Barista calls his name. Jongdae immediately forgives the public roast, because thank God for Johnny the Barista. He stays frozen for a second, not quite knowing what to do.

“Go on,” Baekhyun chuckles, thankfully not interpreting his awkwardness as disinterest. “I’ll text you.”

Jongdae tries to nod, but it ends up being more of a head twitch. He quickly turns and scurries to the counter where Johnny the Barista is judging him very hard. Snatching the drink carrier off of the table, Jongdae runs out of the store as fast as he possibly can. As he’s waiting for the elevator to go back up to the office, he realizes that he forgot to ask for drink stoppers, which means that Chanyeol was going to get upset. Jongdae feels bad for a millisecond, and then realizes that the thought of Chanyeol suffering doesn’t bother him in the slightest.

After all, today Chanyeol was responsible for Jongdae’s personal edition of the Series of Unfortunate Events. So really, Chanyeol can take those drink stoppers and shove them up his-

“Jongdae, are you okay?” Sehun, the Dorito-cut-model-looking twink asks him. He’s also a paralegal, but in Jongdae’s defense, sometimes Sehun’s tight dress shirts make that hard to remember.

Jongdae realizes that the elevator doors have opened. He robotically steps out and smiles at Sehun. He must not be doing a very good job of smiling, because Sehun’s expression turns more concerned.

“I’m okay!” Jongdae takes a deep breath and puts a real smile on his face. That tends to do the trick and Sehun relaxes and steps into the elevator with a wave. Jongdae trudges his way to Luhan’s office to drop off his coffee first. Chanyeol is the worst so he can get his coffee after it turns cold and disgusting.

Halfway down the hallway, Jongdae feels his phone vibrate in his pocket.

_Baekhyun: Let’s meet up this Saturday. We can exchange shirts._

_Baekhyun: And maybe some other things ;)_

_Baekhyun: And by other things, I mean words. I’d like to get to know you Jongdae._

_Baekhyun: But, if you’re feeling a different genre of other things, I won’t mind at all._

Jongdae has to stop himself from breaking down into laughter. He almost drops his coffee in the process. Thinking for a second, he turns on a heel towards his favorite inflatable tube man’s desk, recalculating his coffee delivery route.

Maybe Chanyeol isn’t so bad after all.

-

“Does this look hipster coffee shop appropriate?” Jongdae walks out of his room in a subtly fashionable number and does a twirl. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and gives him a _why are you asking me_ look. Jongin, who lives for fashion, jumps up immediately and begins his critique.

“Jongdae, that red is _not_ your color,” Jongin scrunches his nose in distaste. “And that cardigan has got to go. Have you learned nothing from 12 years of being friends with me?”

Jongdae thought the red looks just fine, mainly because it was inspired by the color of Baekhyun’s hair. Jongdae _really_ loves Baekhyun’s hair. Jongin has other ideas and looks like he wants to burn his entire outfit in a sacrificial fire. Before he knows it, Jongin is dragging him by the sleeve into his massive closet.

“I can’t believe you have this many ugly pieces of clothing, it’s actually a talent.” Jongin shuffles through racks of clothing like he’s out shopping, grabbing shirts and sweaters off the rack by the bunch and shoving them into Jongdae’s arms. “Now try all of these on.”

“Jongin, I’m going to be late if I-”

“Just do it.”

Jongin leaves no room for argument so Jongdae complies. It’s worth it because he walks out of the house looking fly as hell, luckily only running five minutes late for his date with Baekhyun.

The man in question is already waiting outside when Jongdae arrives, and the minute he lays his eyes on Jongdae, his entire face lights up.

“Hey you,” Baekhyun grins and holds out a bag. “I’m normally not the kind of guy to do gifts on the first date, but you’re a special one.”

Jongdae rolls his eyes and takes the bag out of Baekhyun’s hands, replacing it with his own.

 “I’m honored.” Jongdae opens the door to the cafe and leads them inside. They continue to banter as they stand in line. By the time they’re sitting at a table with their drinks, Jongdae’s stomach already hurts from laughing so much.

“Glad to see that you kept your drink simple this time.” Baekhyun points at his vanilla latte with his eyebrows raised.

“Oh come on, give me a break,” Jongdae whines. “That travesty was for my eccentric boss, okay?”

“Oh you’ve got one of those too?” Baekhyun chuckles. “Mine is named Junmyeon and he’s one of the strangest men I’ve ever met in my life.”

“There’s no way he’s worse than mine,” Jongdae challenges.

“Junmyeon walks around the office singing and dancing to Red Velvet songs.”

“Well Yixing talks to furniture.”

They continue to trade funny work stories. Jongdae talks about Sehun’s inability to operate a printer and Chanyeol’s general lack of coordination. Baekhyun tells him about exploring Manhattan to interview crazy businessmen with his partner Minseok. Jongdae decides that Baekhyun’s life is significantly more interesting.

Jongdae gets made fun of for going to an Ivy League and owning too much Givenchy, and it’s a breath of fresh air. Being around someone that was so _not_ Manhattan was everything Jongdae needed without knowing it.

“So law,” Baekhyun starts, shifting the topic to something more serious. “How’d that happen?”

Jongdae thinks about it. The more he thinks, the more he realizes that he doesn’t know the answer to that question. It’s a little unnerving.

“Honestly, I don’t really know,” Jongdae shrugs. “My parents always had this picture of what they wanted me to become. My best friend was a pre-law major and law fit that picture so I kinda just, did it. I guess? That sounds pretty lame now that I think about it.”

Jongdae expects Baekhyun to tease him. It does sound pretty ridiculous, and only he realizes it now that he’s said it out loud. Nobody has ever asked him that question that wasn’t on the other side of an interview. Without his rehearsed response about how meaningful it is to be a lawyer, Jongdae’s got nothing.

“You don’t always need a perfect answer, Jongdae,” Baekhyun smiles. “Relax, this isn’t an interview.”

Jongdae shrugs, expression sheepish. “What about you? Journalism?”

“It’s nothing too special. I was on the school paper in high school and really liked it, so I picked journalism as my major in college. You can probably tell, but I’ve always had a pretty bold personality, so I figured I’d use it to write tell-all exposes about the bad people in this world.”

“You’re living the dream then.”

Jongdae internet stalked Baekhyun after running into him at Starbucks. Apart from the piece about his dad that he’d like to forget, Baekhyun writes quite a bit of investigative pieces on the crooks of Wall Street. The same criminals he’s going to be trying in court someday.  

“I mean I guess you could say that,” Baekhyun chuckles but a little bit of his usual spark is missing. “Exposing greedy bastards for their embezzlement schemes is great and all, but I was thinking more along the lines of investigative human rights journalism.”

“You would be good at that.” Jongdae could easily imagine Baekhyun traveling the world and writing for justice.

“Yeah, I think so too,” Baekhyun laughs. “But they put me in the business column because they were short staffed. Sadly, they kept me there because I’m good at it. Doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying though.”

Baekhyun grins, eyes twinkling. Jongdae can see the passion in his expression and he feels a little jealous. He also feels like Baekhyun just got two times more attractive. Or maybe ten.

Baekhyun glances to the window, and Jongdae follows suit. It’s dark outside.  Jongdae checks his watch. It’s been almost five hours. He didn’t even notice.

“We should probably get going,” Jongdae says reluctantly.

“Yeah, it’s getting late.” Baekhyun fidgets with the bag in his hand. He looks as reluctant to leave as Jongdae feels.

“But, we should do this again,” Jongdae replies. “Soon.”

“I would love that.”

-

Jongdae stumbles through the elevator door after his fourth dinner date with Baekhyun, slightly tipsy. It’s one in the morning. Way past dinner time. Baekhyun wasn’t too keen on letting him leave right after the movie they watched, as a part of his ‘get to know you’ mission. Jongdae didn’t mind the two hour long make out session at all, and it was a pity that they had to cut it short. If Baekhyun didn’t have somewhere to be tomorrow morning, Jongdae would have slept over in a heartbeat.

As he enters the living room, he hears before he sees. The sound of a particularly loud moan echoes through the living room and Jongdae is definitely not drunk enough for this. His eyes focus in the dark on his two best friends lying horizontally on the couch. Except they aren’t lying on the couch, they’re actually engaging in mix of grinding and moaning. When Jongdae focuses a little too much, he realizes that Kyungsoo is sucking on Jongin’s neck. He screams.

The two of them spring apart instantly, eyes wide in shock.

“Jongdae, you’re here?” Kyungsoo is breathless and his neck is littered with love bites. Jongdae would like some bleach for his eyes, please and thanks.

“I fucking live here, of course I’m here,” Jongdae groans. The alcohol combined with the R-rated images he just witnessed are making him a little nauseous. He hates his friends.

“It was so late, we thought you just went to Baekhyun’s,” Jongin mumbles sheepishly. He opens his mouth to say something else, but then thinks better of it.

“What were you going to say, Jongin?” Jongdae grinds.

“Are you ever going to put out or-”

“Shut your dirty mouth.” Jongin’s mouth was indeed very dirty. Jongdae doesn’t want to think about where it’s been. “Anyways, Kyungsoo you literally have an entire bedroom, _why_ are you defiling the couch.”

Jongdae’s brain catches up with him.

“Also hold the fuck up, since WHEN?” Jongdae screeches. He picks the chair farthest away from them, because, gross, and sits down. “Tell me everything. Who jumped who? How long has this been going on? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! Also fucking FINALLY.”

Jongdae ponders for a moment. “Not to be confused with _you’re_ fucking finally, because I don’t want any details about that.”

“Calm down.” Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “It’s been, like, two days. We were going to tell you, but you’ve been running off to have frustratingly PG dates with this Baekhyun dude.”

“PG-15, actually. At least I don’t bring Baekhyun home and play tongue war with him on the couch,” Jongdae snorts. “So, Jongin broke down and confessed his gross undying love, didn’t he?”

“Hey!” Jongin pouts. “I was very cool about it.”

“He cried,” Kyungsoo deadpans.

“Shut up Soo, you probably cried too.”

“His eyes got glassy,” Jongin divulges. “But I couldn’t make him cry. Disappointing.”

“Why does this feel weirdly casual?” Kyungsoo gets off the couch and walks towards the kitchen with a chuckle. He fills up a glass with water and brings it back to Jongdae. A smile instantly appears on Jongdae’s face. He’s glad his friends are finally done beating around the bush, especially because he knows nothing about their relationship with him will really change.

“It’s because you two have been dating for, like, five years. Honestly I’d rather walk in on this than deal with the constant sexual tension,” Jongdae says between gulps down the water.

“Are you sure about that?” Jongin smirks. Jongdae has to backtrack. He really is not sure about that at all.

“I take it back.” Jongdae empties the glass of water and promptly gets up, starting towards his room. “You guys can go back to doing whatever disgusting stuff was happening before I walked in. Just take it to the bedroom _please._ And keep it down. Especially you Jongin, I know you’re a screamer.”

“Fuck you!” Jongin whines. Jongdae shuts the door behind him with a smile.

-

Jongdae is lounging on Baekhyun’s couch reading a book with his head cushioned in his boyfriend’s lap. _Boyfriend_. It’s strange to think that in one month after their first date, Baekhyun has become an indispensable part of of his life. It’s been a long time since he’s felt content about his life. Jongdae is slowly becoming closer to his work friends and really thinks of Luhan as a mentor in his life. Baekhyun fits in seamlessly, getting along with Jongin and Kyungsoo better than even he does sometimes. Everything is perfect, and really, Jongdae should have nothing to worry about. But for some reason he can’t shake the nagging feeling that something is missing in his life.

He sighs, attempting to register the words his eyes are skimming over and ultimately failing.

“What are you sighing about?” Baekhyun strokes a hand through his hair and Jongdae’s eyes flutter closed as he leans into the touch.

“Mmm? Nothing much.” Jongdae murmurs. “Just thinking about how happy I am.”

It’s the truth. Almost.

“Cheesy,” Baekhyun chuckles softly. “Also you’re a liar.”

“I’m fine, I promise.”

“Okay, I’ll believe you.”

And maybe Baekhyun shouldn't. Maybe Jongdae should talk about it and figure out exactly what was wrong, but he doesn’t. Everything is perfect, and Jongdae would give anything for it to stay this way forever. So he forgets. Forgets about this missed calls from his family. Forgets about the nagging feeling in his gut that’s telling him that he has something he needs to figure out.

Jongdae thinks back to the journal sitting on his bedside table. The strange thread of connection he feels to KJD has had him thinking about many things. If a man who the world kept kicking down had it within him to be passionate, what was stopping Jongdae?

Perhaps, for once, Jongdae just wants to feel passionate about something like the man in the journal. Kyungsoo and Jongin might complain day in and day out about how difficult their jobs were, but there was no denying that they love them. Baekhyun never stops trying to find a way to do what he loves. Being around people like that everyday reminds Jongdae that he’s never felt this way. He wonders if he ever will.

Mediocrity isn’t only a feeling that comes from those expectations that Jongdae dreads. He’s starting to realize how much it comes from himself as well. Yes, Kyungsoo has always done better in school, but between the two of them they both know that Jongdae is the smarter one. When they were younger, Jongdae was the hardworking one of the group, not Jongin.

Things changed when the disillusionment started to set in. When Jongdae couldn’t find a path as easily as his friends did. He stopped trying and it was fine, but maybe he wasn’t.

“Jongdae?” Baekhyun tries again, concern evident in his voice. “You’re lost in your head, talk to me.”

Baekhyun’s warm voice sends a wave of affection through him Jongdae takes a deep breath and soaks in his surroundings. The feeling of Baekhyun’s delicate fingers running through his hair pulls him out of his thoughts.

“You’re perfect, you know that right?”

Baekhyun knows there’s more, but he doesn’t push it. His fingers brush along Jongdae’s forehead and down his cheek lightly.

“You’re pretty darn amazing too, Jongdae Kim.”

  


 

**_December 13th, 1939_ **

_It has been far too long since I’ve worked up the courage to hope, however it seems as though the time has come. I have learned over the past year hopelessness can be quite cowardly, so I have decided that it is time to hope. I will continue to hope and to persevere, and perhaps someday I will find the happiness that I have lost. I will hope to find my family and my friends. I will hope to live my dream._

_Most of all, I will hope to make it out of this war alive, because what more can I really do?_

 

 


	7. December 1939

“Han, you’re insane.”

Jongdae stares at Han in awe. He glances over to see Kai’s expression marred with anger. Kai opens his mouth to unleash a lecture but Han cuts him off.

“I’m being safe, alright. Don’t overreact,” Han shrugs, delicate features twisted into a look of determination. “Anyways, this is going to save us.”

“And please explain to me how your involvement with an underground network for war prisoners is going to help us?” Kai is seething, to most it would look like plain anger, but underneath it Jongdae can see his concern for Han’s safety. Being a part of such a network spells out nothing but danger, and as much as they both trust Han, it’s hard not to be worried.

“Jongdae, you said your friends are connected with a Korean shipbuilding company, correct?”

Jongdae nods, eyebrows furrowing. “Yeah, Park Enterprises. Why?”

“Does the name Park Chanyeol ring a bell to you?”

Jongdae seizes up in shock. “Yes, of course. He’s one of my best friends. How do you know that name?”

“I’ve heard his name floating around here and there. I have reason to believe that he might be in Japan for his family’s business.”

“How long have you known? Why haven’t you told me?” Jongdae’s heart is thundering at the news. If the news was true and Chanyeol was really here, this could be his ticket home.

“Relax, it’s only been a few days, and I wanted to make sure before I gave you any hope.” Luhan turns to Kai. “You might not like my idea. Actually, I know for a fact that you will not like my idea.”

“Well, I have no other options at the moment. Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Jongdae, how well do you trust this Park Chanyeol?” Han inquires.

“I’d trust him with my life.”

“Well, he might provide us with a solution to this whole mess.” Han starts pacing in thought. “If our company can collaborate with Park Enterprises on this pitch, we can avoid being discovered.”

“Absolutely not,” Kai interjects. “This is our idea, we can’t hand it over to another company. All of our hard work will go to waste.”

“It’s a collaboration, Kai. We can ask for their help on the pitch and split the profits fairly.”

Jongdae considers this. It’s potentially the only option they have. If word was true, and Chanyeol was truly in town, he would be the only person trustworthy enough to seek out.

“Chanyeol is a fair man. If this works out, you will still get more than enough of the profits, Kai,” Jongdae reassures. Kai is practically pushed into a corner. Time is running out, and they would have to meet with military officials soon. Jongdae has to admit that Han’s idea is quite brilliant. “So how are we going to find him?”

Excitement courses through Jongdae’s whole body at the thought of meeting his old friend. It’s only been just over a year since he arrived in Japan, but it feels like it’s been an eternity. He’s having trouble maintaining a neutral expression, and the excitement must be contagious because Luhan starts grinning as well.

“If you approve of this, I can start asking around,” Luhan nods to Kai. “The network works fast, I should have him tracked down in a week or so. Especially if he’s in Tokyo.”

They both look at Kai expectantly.

“So? What’s the verdict?” Jongdae asks, hoping with all he has that the answer is a yes.

“Do we have much of a choice?” Kai sighs. Jongdae already knows the answer is that they don’t. Han affirms his thoughts and shakes his head. “Well then, Han do your worst.”

Kai pauses.

“But if you get caught, you’re dead to me.”

-

Jongdae is nervous. It doesn’t make sense, if he were to be completely honest with himself. He should be elated at the thought of what is about to happen, but instead there is a discomfort in his stomach. Perhaps it makes sense. After all, it’s been a year and a half since he’s seen anyone from home. So much has changed. So much about Jongdae has changed.

He glances at his watch and resigns himself from his thoughts to get back to work. Han is off making arrangements with his mysterious secret network, so Jongdae has the office to himself for the first time in a while. Thinking back to how small it felt when he first started using it, it feels strangely empty today without his friend with him. It’s much too quiet.

Jongdae gathers up his things and hauls himself next door, barging in without a knock.

“Rude,” Kai intones as he scribbles away on a paper. “What do you want?”

Jongdae unceremoniously spills his things onto Kai’s desk and takes a seat.

“Han is gone and I’m lonely.” Jongdae gives no further explanation and begins working. Kai sighs, rolling his eyes and getting back to work. He doesn’t tell Jongdae to leave. Kai also gets lonely from time to time, and he doesn’t mind working in the company of a friend.

Jongdae doesn’t know how much time passes as he gets immersed in his work, thoughts flying out of his brain. The number of documents they’ve been having to sift through has been more than usual, with new factory regulations being imposed daily by the government. Kai has been forced to change factory procedures more in the last month than he has in the year before that combined. The workers haven’t been very satisfied, and Jongdae knows that productivity is going to suffer as a result. He’s been poring over productivity statistics for the past years, hoping to find a way to implement the regulations while also ensuring that they are able to produce at their highest efficiency. It’s been more difficult than Jongdae would like to admit.

His work is interrupted by a heavy knock on the door. He looks up to meet Kai’s eyes and they share a look of panic. No one usually comes to visit at this time, but it would mean trouble if Jongdae was seen by an official.

“Don’t worry, it’s just me,” Jongdae hears Han call from outside the door, tension disappearing instantly. He must be back from whatever secret meeting he was attending. Having never worked on the assembly line, Han was allowed to walk around the factory more freely than Jongdae, and it never failed to make him jealous.

“Then why are you knocking, you fool?” Jongdae laughs, rolling his eyes. He hears a gasp outside the door and his panic returns instantly. Han was not alone.

“Jongdae? Is that you?” Jongdae’s eyes go wide and he considers pinching himself to see if this is all real.

“ _Minseok_?” Jongdae whisper to himself, standing from his seat. Kai’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. He has no idea what’s going on, and for that matter, neither does Jongdae.

The door whips open behind him and Jongdae turns to see Han smirking at him with Chanyeol and Minseok standing not too far behind, jaws dropped in shock. Jongdae’s expression must mirror theirs because Han starts laughing in glee.

“What’s going on?” Kai frowns from behind Jongdae, feeling left out. “Who are these people?”

Before Han can answer, Jongdae is sandwiched between Minseok and Chanyeol in what seems to be the tightest hug he’s ever gotten.

“What are you _doing_ here?” Minseok is almost yelling into his ear, and the sound of his best friend’s voice makes Jongdae smile so hard.

“Jongdae, you bastard, how could you just disappear on us like that?” Chanyeol is shaking him and his voice sounds torn between laughing and crying. Jongdae feels quite the same. Jongdae returns his friends’ hug with the same intensity, and he can feel tears forming in his eyes. For the first time in forever, his heart feels whole.

And he couldn’t be more thankful for it.  

-

“We need your help quite desperately,” Kai finishes his monologue. They’re all stuffed into Kai’s office, Jongdae and Han’s designs laid out all over the table with Minseok and Chanyeol studying them with fascination.  

“We’ll do it,” Chanyeol responds immediately. “Anything for Jongdae. And it wouldn’t hurt for our company to have a good name in the eyes of the Japanese military.”

“The money-” Kai starts.

“Don’t worry about it,” Chanyeol interjects. “We won’t take anything. This is the work of your company, we won’t reap the benefit.”

Kai relaxes at those words. Jongdae knows that he wouldn't mind giving up some of the profit, his father however is a different story.

“Although, these designs would be ours had Jongdae been able to stay in Korea,” Minseok teases. Jongdae meets his gaze and grins. Both his friends are sporting longer hairdos than the last time he saw them, likely for the winter. They look older, worry lines decorating their face. Perhaps Jongdae isn’t much different in that regard.

“Well, I suppose we can start debriefing you tomorrow.”  Han stifles a yawn. “It’s getting rather late, don’t you think?”

The factory closed hours ago and between the lengthy reunion and Kai’s never ending monologue, they’ve been here for quite a while.

“I agree,” Chanyeol affirms, coming around to Jongdae’s right side to sling an arm over his shoulder. “We’ve got an appointment with this man here, anyways.”

Kai and Han chuckle at that.

“Just don’t take him drinking, he’ll ruin you,” Kai snorts, shuddering the memory of his last hangover.

“Oh, you don’t know what ruining is until you go drinking with Chanyeol,” Jongdae retorts. “It’s truly awful.”

  
“Agreed,” Minseok laughs coming over to his left and wrapping his arms around his torso. The warmth of his friend’s affection is much appreciated in the winter cold.

“Let’s get out of here.” Kai rolls his eyes and picks up his bag, dodging Chanyeol’s flailing limbs as he makes his way to the door. They all follow him out and make their way through the dark factory. Jongdae doesn’t quite mind it as much with his friends around him.

As they walk outside, Jongdae pulls his coat tighter around him. The winter air is frigid, biting his skin with every heavy gust. They all bid their farewells and head in opposite directions. Jongdae trudges against the wind to follow Minseok and Chanyeol back to their accommodations.

The apartment they were sharing during their time in Tokyo is grand. Jongdae shouldn’t be surprised, but it’s a bit disarming for him to be in such a luxurious space after spending most of the last year cooped up in his office at the factory.

“This is quite nice,” Jongdae whistles with a smile on his face. Ridding himself of his coat and shoes in the foyer, he immediately collapses onto the couch. “I’m exhausted.”

“Well, you must be with Kai putting you so hard to work,” Minseok scoffs, obviously not impressed with Jongdae’s boss. He’s not surprised, it does take a while to get used to Kai’s attitude.  

“He’s a good man,” Jongdae reasons. “He’s not very good with people. You’ll get used to him.”

“Are you sure you aren’t just saying that to reassure us?” Chanyeol grabs a kettle and begins to make tea.

“He treats Han and I well, that I can say with confidence.” Jongdae sits up on the couch. “He’s simply a child that had to grow up too fast. His father puts a lot of pressure on him with the business.”

Minseok nods in understanding.

“Anyways, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Jongdae starts.

“Your parents are safe,” Minseok answers Jongdae’s question before he even says it out loud. Jongdae lets out the breath he was holding in relief. The apprehension of not knowing if his parents were okay has been heavily weighing on him ever since he arrived in Japan. “I have moved them away from your old home to a safer part of town. They are safe under our care now. You can thank Chanyeol for that.”

“Chanyeol?” Jongdae questions glancing at the tall man. “What did you do?”

“Nothing at all. My family has many properties around Busan and they are simply occupying one of them.”

“For free?” Jongdae’s eyebrows knit together. It’s quite a favor and Jongdae doesn’t know how his parents agreed to it.

“Of course,” Chanyeol sighs. “They refused at first, but I wouldn’t take no for an answer. Your father is getting old, there is no reason for him to be traveling on foot to the factory every day. And your old neighborhood is no place for them to be living at the moment.”

  
Jongdae shudders at the thought of what it has become. He’d rather not know, so he simply doesn’t ask.

“Well then I am indebted to you,” Jongdae says solemnly. Chanyeol makes a noise of frustration in response, pouring tea into three delicate porcelain cups.

“Shut your damn mouth,” Chanyeol warns lightheartedly. “Jongdae, you are family. There is no such thing as debt between us. Besides, it is our fault you ended up in this mess anyways. You could have helped them yourself if it hadn’t been for us.”

“That was entirely my fault and you know it.” Jongdae argues.

“Not entirely,” Minseok chuckles. “But you were a stubborn ass, I will give you that much.”

It’s surreal to joke about something as serious as Jongdae’s abduction, but they all laugh together. After a year and a half, it almost feels like a phantom memory. His friends don’t even know about his time in Fukuoka.  

“Where is Sehun, by the way? Is he doing alright?” Jongdae asks suddenly. Laughing with his friends reminds him that there is a voice missing from their conversation. Minseok and Chanyeol’s expressions turn slightly concerned.

“Last we heard he was in Kyoto dealing with some trade mishap for his father,” Minseok shrugs. Something seems wrong, Jongdae can feel it.

“Something’s gone wrong hasn’t it?” Jongdae murmurs. “What happened?”

“He’s been pretty quiet about it to us,” Chanyeol walks over to the couch with cups of tea on a silver serving tray. “From what it seems, however, things are bad.”

“We are worried for him. We don’t know what it is his father has done, but it seems as though their business might be in trouble.”

Jongdae’s heart breaks at the thought of Sehun going through hardships. The younger boy has always been the most innocent of the group, and the big brother in him wants to rush to Kyoto and save him.

“We have been in contact with him via post.” Chanyeol shares, taking a sip of tea. Jongdae follows suit. It’s delicious. “We’ll alert him of our reunion in Tokyo, perhaps he will join us.”

“I sure hope so,” Jongdae sighs, sinking back into the cushions of the couch. More things have changed than Jongdae had predicted.

“Now enough sad talk,” Minseok changes the subject. “Let’s talk about you, my friend. Where have you been?”

“Tell us everything.”

“Well where should I begin even?” Jongdae chuckles. “In June of 1938, I got kidnapped off the streets of Busan and shipped to Fukuoka like cargo.”

Chanyeol and Minseok’s eyes widen.

“And it’s been quite the wild ride ever since.”

-

 “Are you guys ready?” Jongdae claps a hand on Chanyeol’s shoulder in support. “You know everything you need to, you’ll be fine.”

“I feel more nervous than before an exam,” Chanyeol exhales. Minseok is pacing around the small space of Kai’s office, and Han murmurs words of comfort to him. It seems to work, and his friend visibly relaxes, meeting Han’s gaze with a slight smile. Jongdae’s eyes narrow a bit, slight smirk appearing on his face as he watches his two best friends interact. Curious.

“We should get out of here, Han,” Jongdae calls over to his friends, breaking whatever is going on between them. As much as he’d love to observe more, they’re running out of time. Jongdae and Han would have to make themselves scarce during this meeting, otherwise their efforts would be for naught.

“Well good luck boys,” Han calls to them has he joins Jongdae at the door. “Knock em’ dead.”

Jongdae and Han shut themselves away into their little office and begin the waiting game. As confident as he is, Jongdae can’t help but feel a little nervous. He could see how nervous Kai was getting about the whole thing over the two weeks they spent teaching Minseok and Chanyeol the ins and outs of the designs. If this deal doesn’t go as planned, Kai would be in a lot of trouble with his father.

“You think they’ll be okay in there?” Jongdae wonders, turning to Han who is focused on some paperwork looking unfazed.

“Relax, Jongdae,” Han reassures him. “They’re smart men, they’ll be just alright.”

“Speaking of those men,” Jongdae starts with a lilt. “I’ve been seeing you and Minseok getting rather close of late.”

“Oh, I knew this was coming,” Luhan sighs and rolls his eyes. “It’s nothing, Jongdae. We’ve just gotten close.”

“Close.” Jongdae’s smirk returns. “I see.”

“Oh shut up, he’s leaving soon anyways,” Han frowns, eyes focused on the papers in front of him. “So are you, I assume?”

The question startles Jongdae. It takes him back to the conversation he had with Chanyeol a week ago.

_“It would be rather ill advised for you to return with us, Jongdae.” Chanyeol looked rather upset to deliver the news. “It’s not much better there than it is here. Honestly that’s the reason why Minseok and I have been spending so much time in Tokyo. It’s almost safer.”_

_“Chanyeol, my family-”_

_“They’re safe. And they’ll know you are as well when you return home. Focus on finding Jongdeok and making a life for yourself here for now. If things improve, I’ll bring you back in a heartbeat, mark my word.”_

Thinking about it now, it was true. Jongdae would have to spend his time in hiding if he goes back to Busan.   _Even though you were smuggled here, bringing you back would be the real crime in the eyes of the police,_ he had said. And he was right. Jongdae wouldn’t be safe in Korea anymore.

“I’m not going back,” Jongdae finally shares, breaking out of his thoughts. Han finally looks up from his papers in shock.

“Are you insane? This is your ticket out.”

“And if I return, I’ll be thrown right back onto a ship and end up in another port on the docks,” Jongdae argues. He forces his voice to stay quiet. By now, the meeting with the military officials is likely ongoing next door. “I’ve made a life for myself here, Han. I have you and Kai. I have a job. With the world looking the way it is right now, I’m damn lucky, if you ask me.”

Han considers this, understanding washing over his face. The logic is unarguable.

“I suppose that’s true,” Han offers. He looks sad. “I was hoping that at least one of us would get the chance to return to our families, but I guess we’ll have to wait.”

“Well, at least we have each other while we do,” Jongdae grins, glad to have a friend like Han that he can lean on. “And Minseok, of course.”

“Oh shut up, would you?”

Jongdae doesn’t hear a word of it.

-

Jongdae knew that it could only last so long. One month after a successful meeting with the military, Kai is finally sending the new designs into production. This also meant that it was time for Chanyeol and Minseok to head home, much to Jongdae’s despair. And Han’s.

“I think you’re frowning more than I am, Han,” Jongdae whispers to his friend as they all sit around a table with delicious food on it. Han is awfully close to Minseok, and Jongdae can’t help but notice how upset the two seem.

“You will have the chance to see them again, after all this is over,” Han glowers. “I am not that lucky.”

“Nothing is stopping you from coming to visit us.” Chanyeol supplies from the other side of the table. “We’d welcome you with open arms.” Chanyeol looks like he has more to say, but thinks better of it. Jongdae knows exactly how that sentence ended in Chanyeol’s head.

_Or at least Minseok will._

He meets Chanyeol’s gaze, and the two of them immediately burst into laughter, ignoring the confusion of the others. Kai is sulking again, feeling left out. Between four older men that treat him like a little brother, he’s been torn between feeling content at the adoration or feeling left out.

Jongdae loves the dynamic that has settled between the five of them over the last month and a half. It felt like something out of a dream, after the hell that the last year brought along. He still has to think twice before dating papers with a 1940. A new year has come along, and it would likely bring new struggles. Jongdae is happy that he has memories like these to carry him through whatever 1940 brings.

Chanyeol and Minseok would be leaving tomorrow on a boat. Neither of them know when they will return, but Jongdae can only hope that it is soon. According to Chanyeol, Sehun was planning on making his way to Tokyo soon, so perhaps it wouldn’t be so empty after all.

With all of the extra work that comes along with a full production military factory he would likely have his hands full. He’s also been working on searching for his brother. Luckily Minseok was able to get Jongdae some leads, and his once directionless hunt is now far more hopeful.

“Please arrive home safely,” Jongdae worries. “And send me letters often. From my parents as well.”

“Of course, mother,” Chanyeol rolls his eyes. “We’ll be fine.”

“We’ll _all_ be fine,” Minseok adds.

And yes, maybe they just would.  


 

**_February 2nd, 1940_ **

_Sometimes, luck is as simple as having friends who care for you. I am lucky to have met those who I can call my friends. Without them, survival would be merely a wish and not a reality. It is hard to believe that winter is almost ending. Soon spring will arrive and the snow will melt away, and hopefully with it the burden on our shoulders._

 

 


	8. December 2018

_This whole friendship thing is so overrated,_ Jongdae thinks to himself as he sits at his dinner table while his friends shamelessly laughing at him.

“Jongin is exaggerating, it wasn’t like that,” Jongdae whines, pouting at his friends who are doubled over plates of pasta that Kyungsoo gracefully put together.

“So you’re saying that you _didn’t_ run around half naked in Paris on a December evening?” Chanyeol can barely even get his question out because he’s laughing so hard.

“At least I have the coordination required to run, Chanyeol. Not sure you can say the same about yourself.” With that comment, Jongdae successfully transfers the attention to Chanyeol who gives him a look that can kill. It doesn’t bother him. He’s pretty sure Chanyeol is incapable of hurting a spider, evidenced by the mini scream-fest he had in the office last week.

He’s on his fifth glass of wine, already feeling more hammered than he does on a night out of discounted shots. In Jongdae’s defense, the stuff tastes like grape juice and Jongdae _loves_ grape juice. He turns to his right to sneak a glance at Baekhyun to find out that his boyfriend was already staring at him, eyes shining. The smile on Baekhyun’s face takes his breath away and makes him feel even drunker than he already is. Jongdae grins right back and returns his attention to the friends sitting at his table.

Chanyeol has moved on to telling the story of how he almost got trampled by an enthusiastic group of runners the a few days ago.

“They just came out of nowhere and I panicked!” Chanyeol’s large limbs flail without control in an attempt to emphasize his story. Jongdae prays for the safety of his Waterford crystal wine glasses. He should have switched them out for the cheap ones out after finding out Chanyeol would be coming.  

“Chanyeol _please_ control your arms, you’re going to break all the glassware,” Kyungsoo sighs, saving Jongdae from having to be the bad guy. Again.

“Chanyeol broke the printer again yesterday,” Sehun deadpans, face schooled into his usual unimpressed expression. “He must be stopped.”

“Sehun, you’re the one who jammed the printer yesterday because you were trying to print out an _entire novel._ ” Luhan shakes his head.

“Same difference,” Sehun shrugs, shoving another spoon of pasta into his mouth. He’s on his fourth plate already, and it doesn’t look like he’s stopping any time soon. Jongdae wonders how he manages to maintain his perfect Dorito-cut torso. Perhaps he should ask for workout advice.

“It’s really not at all the same difference, Sehun,” Jongdae supplies. Sehun looks up, pouting at Jongdae for the betrayal. In the past few months, Jongdae has become Sehun’s favorite, most likely because Chanyeol is mean and Luhan is dumb.

“Jongdae, you’re supposed to have my back!”

“And you’re supposed to stop lying. We talked about this,” Jongdae sighs. He doesn’t know when he lost the capability to befriend normal people. The table descends into another series of arguments and Jongdae decides to just snuggle into Baekhyun’s side and watch it unfold while continuing to sip on his wine. He drains it by the time the table has moved onto talking about who has louder sex between the two couples of the house. The minute the topic of Jongdae screaming ‘that one night’ comes up, he gets out of his seat to fill his wine glass back up to the brim. He can barely walk in a straight line, and he’s still not drunk enough for this.

“Okay, I’m cutting you off after this one,” Baekhyun warns him as he snakes his hands back around and snuggles into his boyfriend’s arms. By the time they move the conversation to the couch, Jongdae is almost falling asleep.

Somewhere in between Chanyeol’s impression of an ostrich for charades and Kyungsoo’s tirade about how his boss shouldn’t have freedom of speech, Jongdae falls deeply asleep. He barely registers when Baekhyun carry him to his room at the end of the night.

All he knows is that Baekhyun’s embrace makes the best blanket he’s ever used in his life.

-

Jongdae stands in front of the double French doors to his parent’s home, apprehension settling into his system with a vengeance. He has half a mind to turn around and call a cab to go back home, but it’s been almost a year since he’s set foot into this house. Putting it off much longer would mean consequences that Jongdae frankly would rather not deal with.

Opening the door, he tentatively and steps inside, walking into the giant entryway of his parent’s home. His mother seems to have redecorated yet again. The once blue walls were now a pastel yellow, accented by white and grey decorations. As usual, it’s extravagant – perfectly suited to his mother’s taste. Jongdae wonders how much she paid the interior decorator this time.

He wanders around the large home. It can get hard to find people in here, with everyone hiding away in their respective corners. Jongdae would go to his, but he’s never really had one. They had moved here after he already started attending boarding school, so all he has in this house are memories of summer. As a kid, he always preferred to spend his free time as far away from this house as possible, more often than not landing on the streets to play with his friends (to his mother’s disdain).

There’s clattering in the kitchen, in a normal home that would mean his mother is cooking. In this home, he knows the only person he actually wants to see is likely preparing tonight’s meal.

“Mrs. Lee!” Jongdae sneaks into the kitchen, startling the housemaid as she lays out kimchi on a cutting board. Mrs. Lee doesn’t even flinch, well accustomed to Jongdae’s antics. She was probably made aware of his presence at dinner today and told to make dinner for one more person.

“Oh my dear, you’re back,” Mrs. Lee turns around and smothers Jongdae’s face in kisses. He manages to wriggle out of her hold and give her a big hug.

“I’ve missed you.”

“That’s entirely your fault, Jongdae,” Mrs. Lee reprimands, small smile on her face. She doesn’t mean it – Jongdae knows that. If there is anyone in the home that knew how much Jongdae needed to stay away, its her. “You should probably go find your father. He’s in his study.”

Jongdae pouts. There’s really nothing he would rather do less. Except perhaps seek out his mother.

“That pout stopped working on me when you were five, young man,” Mrs. Lee chides, patting him lightly on the cheek. “Go and get it over with so you can eat dinner in peace and get out of here.”

Jongdae sighs in resignation. As always, she is right. It would be smarter to get whatever lecture is coming to him out of the way. Dragging his feet, he makes his way to the study at a snail’s pace. He lightly knocks on the door when he finally arrives.

“Come in my son,” his father’s gruff voice carries through the thick mahogany door. The door knob is still sticky when he turns it to open the door. His father’s study is probably the only thing in this house that hasn’t changed since they had moved here when he was sixteen. The familiarity of it is strangely comforting when he walks in. There are books lined up to the high ceilings on two of the four walls. The rich colors of wood and the crimson upholstery of the furniture give off a warm and cozy feeling. It’s deceiving. Only a few people know how cold this place really is, and Jongdae is one of them.

The carpet sinks around Jongdae’s feet as he walks to his father’s desk. He takes a seat opposite to the man and waits. After about a minute, his father finally glances up from his paperwork and studies him.

“You didn’t take the job.” His father doesn’t sound angry, simply curious. It feels like a trap. It probably is. “I put in a good word to get you that interview. You even got the position.”

“I liked Sullivan better,” Jongdae shrugs. “It suits me.”

“It’s not good enough.”

“Well neither am I. For this family, that is.” Jongdae crosses his arms and leans back in the chair, posture slumping. His father’s expression turns sour.

“It’s not like we’re not _trying_ to help you,” his dad seethes, banging a fist down on his desk, sending his pen flying into the air. It lands somewhere on the floor. _Hopefully the dog doesn’t find it_ , Jongdae thinks to himself.

“I don’t want your help,” Jongdae sighs. “I want your support. But don’t worry, I’m not stupid enough to think you’ll give it to me.”

He waits expectantly for his father to rebuke him. It doesn’t come. Instead his father takes a deep breath and exhales.

“Jongdae, how have you been?”

 The question has Jongdae’s jaw dropping to the floor. He’s almost certain that nobody in his family has asked him that question in _years_.

“Excuse me?”

“I want to know how you are son. I haven’t seen your face in almost a year. I didn’t invite you over to fight with you,” Jongdae’s father laments. “We miss you, son.”

Jongdae has to control his scoff. “Yeah I’m sure you missed me loads every time my dinner invite got lost in the mail.”

“That’s all your mother’s doing, you know I don’t have contro-”

“You have a phone. You have stationary. You have a goddamn butler who drives around town dropping messages off for you. Mom isn’t the only one who is allowed to invite me into this stupid house.”

His father recoils a little. There’s no argument there. He stays silent.

“How is work? Are you seeing anyone?” Jongdae’s father attempts to change the subject. He’s trying, Jongdae can see that.

“I have a boyfriend. He’s a journalist.”

His father full body flinches at the blunt revelation. Jongdae wouldn’t be surprised if his father was more upset about the journalism part than the boyfriend part. He’s always been more liberal than his mother about these things. “You’re still fooling ar-” his father begins, but cuts himself off. Jongdae can see the battle raging on in his father’s head.

 “Does he make you happy?” His traditionally booming voice barely reaches a whisper. Jongdae is in shock.

So, he’s playing nice. It’s been years since Jongdae’s seen that angle.

“Happier than I’ve been in years, Dad. Why are you doing this, being nice to me? Is everything okay?”

“Has it really come to the point that you think I’m dying if we’re not arguing?”

“Think back on the last ten years, and maybe you’ll find your answer there.” Jongdae is waiting for the plot twist. Waiting for the cameras to pop out and tell him this is all a big joke.

“Dinner is ready,” Mrs. Lee’s voice alerts them softly from the door. Jongdae stands immediately, wanting to get as far away from the study as possible. The conversation that just occurred reminds him of high school. His father would invite him into this dungeon and start off with the ‘I’m the good guy act’. By the end of the conversation, Jongdae would be holding back tears. Luckily he hasn’t reached that point yet.

Dinner with his mother would likely bring him there.

The table is set when they arrive. Jongdeok and his mother are already seated. His older brother gets up to give him a tight hug. It’s been a while since they’ve seen each other.

Jongdae doesn’t really have much against his brother. It would be so easy to resent him for always being the better child, but it’s never bothered Jongdae too much. It’s really Jongdeok’s silence that gets to him more than anything. Years of vicious arguments with absolutely no back-up have gotten to him.

His mother doesn’t move. He hasn’t seen her in over a year, choosing to come home last when she was away. She’s impeccably dressed, a delicate strand of pearls lying on her neck with matching earrings dangling in front of the short bob she has tucked behind her ears. She still looks oh so very young, and it’s strange to see her sitting next to his father. They weren’t too far apart in age, but looking at them like this, his father looks at least fifteen years older.

“You’ve finally come home,” her voice is shrill and it pierces Jongdae’s ears.

“Yes, I was finally invited.” Jongdae can play her game. By now, he’s learnt to play it better than she can.

“This is your home just as much as it is any of ours, Jongdae,” she chides. “That’s not an excuse. Now tell me, how is your job?”

“It’s fine. I’m learning a lot. I like my co-workers.”

She looks rather unimpressed, corners of her mouth distorting into what seems to be halfway between a smirk and a frown. “Hmm and when will you be shifting to a better company?”

Jongdae shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. The frustration is already setting in.

“I won’t be, mother. How many times do I have to-”

His mother lifts the glass of water off the table and bangs it back back down, cutting Jongdae off. Half of the water has spilled onto the linen tablecloth and the staff is already scurrying around in an attempt to clean it up.

“Get out!” his mother sheiks, and the room is empty in an instant apart from the four of them. “You.” She points at Jongdae with fire in her eyes. “You don’t understand how hard it is for me to speak about you to my friends. You couldn’t even end up at the law top firm after all the hardships you’ve put us through. People ask of you every time we host a dinner party, and it’s an embarrassment to speak of you.”

Jongdae glances to his left and right. His brother and father sit with their hands folded and heads down. He wouldn’t be getting any help tonight.

“Good thing you don’t invite me then. They only have to hear about my failures without seeing them in real time as well. God forbid I end up at an acclaimed firm after graduating from a prestigious university.” Jongdae stays calm. His mother would have to do much worse to get a rise out of him.

“Hmm, we’ll talk about this later. This kind of talk isn’t appropriate for the dinner table, Jongdae,” she hums. By ‘kind of talk’ Jongdae assumes she means any argument she’s at a risk of losing. “Anyways, Jongdeok will be married soon and it’s time for you to start thinking,” his mother starts.

“I’ll ask my boyfriend and get back to you about it,” Jongdae deadpans without letting his mother continue. She looks angrier than he’s seen her in many years.

“Don’t tell me that you are still,” Jongdae’s mother can’t finish her sentence. He smirks in response.

“I’m still what, Mom?”

“Let’s break it up and eat,” Jongdeok supplies from his corner of the table, a weak attempt at creating peace.

“And you’re okay just standing by and enjoying a meal while you watch your little brother ruin his life?” their mother trills. Jongdeok shuts down instantly, he can see it. Sometimes he forgets that his older brother still lives in this house. He still sits through these painful dinners _everyday_.

“Jongdae, maybe you should try to at least look for-” his father starts and he rises from his seat instantly.

“Look for what dad? A new job? A strategic match for your company? What do you want me to look for?” Jongdae begins to yell. If there’s one thing he’s learned from distancing himself from home, it’s that he can’t keep letting his family walk all over him like he’s nothing. “You were just asking me if I’m happy? Did my yes mean nothing to you?”

“Jongdae be reasonable,” his father tries. He’s not yelling, simply pleading. It’s the kind of voice Jongdae almost wants to give in to. It’s the voice he gave into for years, giving up every opportunity to think about what he really wanted in life. Thankfully it doesn’t work on him anymore.

“Is that really all you have to say? All of you?”

Jongdeok sheepishly slumps in his chair while his father sports a mildly agonized expression. His mother's face is almost twitching with anger. Nobody says anything.

“Great then, I’ll be going.”

“Kim Jongdae, don’t you dare.” Jongdae’s mother sounds livid. He simply rolls his eyes.

“Watch me.” And with that he stalks away, navigating the winding hallways and making his way to the front door. He slips his shoes on quickly and slams the door shut behind him on the way out. The house is too big for them to have heard it, but it makes him feel regardless.

He hops in his car and speeds off towards the highway, desperately attempting to get as far away as possible. With a couple taps on his dashboard, his car phone is instantly dialing.

“You lasted an hour, congrats,” Kyungsoo picks up instantly and chuckles. “Ice cream?”

“And three bags of Skittles. And can you make your mac and cheese recipe, I didn’t make it through dinner.”

“It’ll be ready. Drive safe, alright?”

“Yes, I will.” The line goes dead and Jongdae sighs.

He watches his childhood neighborhood shrink in his rearview mirror, and he couldn’t be happier do get as far away from it as possible.

-

Jongdae is never quite normal in the couple days after he visits home. It’s as if he’s in a perpetual mood, snapping at everyone who speaks to him and staying uncharacteristically quiet. Kyungsoo and Jongin understand. After 12 years of friendship, it’s almost an unspoken rule to give him his space.

With Baekhyun however, it’s different. With Jongdae refusing to talk about it, of course Baekhyun doesn’t understand. They’re both walking on eggshells around each other, and Jongdae knows a fight is coming long before it happens.

Long before he hears the-

“Ow, _fuck!_ ” Baekhyun’s yell accompanies a loud crashing noise. Jongdae rushes out of the living room into Baekhyun’s kitchen to see the other picking himself up off the dishwasher door.

 _Fuck, I forgot to close it,_ he thinks to himself. This isn’t going to end well.

“Jongdae, are you kidding me? How many times do I have to tell you to **close the goddamn** **dishwasher?** ”

He’s never heard Baekhyun this angry in the four months since they’ve been dating. In fact, they’ve never even yelled at each other in that time.

“I’m sorry, I just forgot,” Jongdae mumbles as Baekhyun attempts to close the door. It doesn’t fit.

“It’s broken Jongdae,” Baekhyun exhales. “You _just forgot_ and now it’s broken.”

“I can have it fixed by tomorrow, don’t worry.”

“And what, throw money at all your problems again and hope they magically fix themselves?” Regret washes over Baekhyun’s face the minute the words come out of his mouth, but he doesn’t back down.

“Don’t you fucking dare talk about my money, Baekhyun.” Jongdae takes a step closer. He’s not yelling, but simmering anger in his voice almost sounds worse. “It was a mistake. It’s a dishwasher, it can be fixed. Why are you overreacting?”

“Another mistake huh? Like you forgetting to call and text me back everyday? Like how you magically forgot how to talk to me in the last week and a half?” The anger in Baekhyun’s expression disappears to leave only a pitiful frown. His voice wavers and his eyes are shining. “Did I do something wrong? Why aren’t you talking to me Jongdae?”

Jongdae’s heart breaks in an instant. A tear spills down Baekhyun’s cheek and it sets off a waterfall. He can’t wrap his arms around Baekhyun fast enough. Jongdae can feel him shaking with sobs in his arms. Feeling regret this intense is new for Jongdae, and he wishes he could take it all back.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, arms tightening around Baekhyun.

Baekhyun pulls back, calming himself down. He gazes straight into Jongdae’s eyes. “Just stop telling me you’re okay, because I know you’re not. I know something is wrong and you won’t _talk_ to me. Am I not good enough for you to talk to about these things?”

“No, it’s because you’re too perfect,” Jongdae sighs, tears welling in his eyes as well. “This is all so perfect and I don’t want to weigh it down with all my baggage.”

“Jongdae, you’re weighing us down plenty by not talking to me.” Baekhyun runs his hands up Jongdae’s arms in an attempt to comfort him. It works.

“I-” Jongdae starts. He’s never had to tell anyone this story before. The only other people who know are Kyungsoo and Jongin, and they were there to witness it all happen. “It’s a really long story.”

“Well good thing I’m sticking around for a really long time.”

-

Baekhyun sitting at the island, immersed in his laptop when Jongdae finally gets home from work.

“Hi love,” he calls, tapping away at his keyboard with a quick glance up. Baekhyun has been on the hunt for a new job in human rights journalism. After speaking with his boss and applying to the department at the New York Times, Baekhyun has also decided to apply externally as well. NYT was viciously competitive, and he was getting sick of waiting for the opportunity to come his way. Jongdae admires his ambition. Having a boyfriend like Baekhyun teaches him to be more active and confident about finding his true passions. “You look exhausted. Long day?”

“It was never-ending,” Jongdae sighs, dumping his things onto a barstool and immediately ransacking the pantry for food. There is a new box of girl scout cookies on Kyungsoo’s side of the closet, and he grabs for them instantly.

“He’s going to kill you,” Baekhyun sighs, frowning at the thought of having to mediate another fight.

“He’ll get over it.” Jongdae rips the box of Trefoils open and begins munching away. Slumping in his chair, he eats his exhaustion’s worth in cookies. He plans on finishing the entire box.

His team has been working on a pinch-hit case after half of their practice got called away to London on emergency business for _another_ case. The case itself gave him Goosebumps. They were working with a human rights organization on the trial of a business for child labor allegations. The evidence they’ve collected thus far points towards a sure victory, and he’s glad all the work he’s doing will pay off to improve the lives of people who need help. Jongdae has been finding himself willingly working overtime without even realizing. It’s refreshing to feel like he can make a difference in people’s lives for a change.

“What application are you working on now?” Jongdae mumbles through a mouthful of cookies. Baekhyun crinkles his nose in disgust.

“BBC World,” Baekhyun sighs. “It’s taking forever, I swear.”

“BBC? Like in London?” Jongdae freezes.

“Potentially yes. They have positions in New York as well,” Baekhyun shares tentatively, sensing Jongdae’s panic. “Don’t worry, I’m just applying for now. I probably won’t even get it.”

“London is far away.” Jongdae mumbles out loud before he can stop himself. “I mean-”

“I know, Jongdae.” Baekhyun stands up from his seat and walks over with a slight smile on his face.

“You’re so talented, Baekhyun, I’m sure you’ll get it.” Jongdae swallows. It’s because he knows how talented his boyfriend is that he’s nervous.

“And if I do, we’ll figure it out. Okay?” Baekhyun wraps his arms around Jongdae and feeds him another cookie. “Besides, I still have a shot at the Times. I’ll stay right here in New York if I can help it.”

“Okay,” Jongdae exhales, melting into his boyfriend’s arms. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Baekhyun rolls his eyes.

“For holding me and feeding me cookies after a long day of work,” Jongdae smiles stupidly. “It’s nice.”

That earns him a swat on the arm. “Don’t get used to it brat.”

“Don’t get your hopes up.”

-

Lightning and thunder crash violently outside Jongdae’s window. The weather sucks today, and he and Baekhyun had to cancel their plans to go to the park. Luckily, neither of them mind snuggling up together on Jongdae’s bed, talking for hours.

It’s all fantastic until Baekhyun’s phone begins to ring incessantly. The same phone that is lying on Jongdae’s desk on the other end of the room.

“I don’t think it’s going to stop,” Baekhyun sighs, prying himself out of Jongdae’s iron grip. Jongdae whines at the loss of warmth. “Minseok has been having girl problems lately.”

“Does Minseok even have time to think about girls? He works more than you do,” Jongdae frowns.

“Honestly I have no idea,” Baekhyun shrugs. “I’ve been tuning most of it out. He’s been whining more than you do these days.”

“Hey!”

Baekhyun snickers to himself as he shoots off a series of quick messages to Minseok and puts his phone on silent. He’s about to come back to bed before something on Jongdae’s desk catches his eye.

“What’s this?” He picks up the journal that has taken up permanent residence on Jongdae’s desk. He’s been steadily making his way through it for the past few months, never failing to be left fascinated by the end of each entry.

“It’s a journal I found,” Jongdae explains as Baekhyun walks the tattered book back over to the bed carefully. “It’s from World War II.”

“Whoa, where did you find this?” Baekhyun awes, eyes widening in fascination as he opens the book the the page Jongdae has bookmarked. Jongdae shrugs, recalling the drunk escapades that led to the mystery of this journal, and sparing himself the embarrassment of telling that story. Baekhyun begins reading aloud.

“International tensions are heightening and even Tokyo doesn’t seem very safe anymore…”

 

 

**_March 5_ ** **_ th _ ** **_1940_ **

_The factory has been keeping us plenty busy, however, it seems that Japan is treading deeper into this war. Troops have already been fighting for months, and I wonder how much longer this can go. Sending messages home is getting even more difficult, and it seems the only recording I will be able to do will soon be limited to this diary._

_With no end in sight, we wait patiently and work tirelessly. Soon, peace will come._

 

 


	9. March 1940

Jongdae can hear the rain pattering outside from his office. The past weeks have brought on gloomy days and stormy nights. Today, the storm carried into the day as well. Jongdae and Han were barely able to make it to work without the rain soaking all the way through their clothes.

_I am sorry to say, I was unable to locate the individual that you are searching for._

“Another dead end,” Jongdae exhales, mood punctuated by the crackling of thunder. He folds up the letter containing the bad news with frustration and stuffs it in the drawer of the desk to join all the others. “If I can’t find Jongdeok even with leads, will this even be possible?”

“Don’t lose hope, Jongdae,” Han sighs, looking up from his work. “We’ll find him soon. We just have to keep trying.”

Attempting to keep the frown off of his face, Jongdae gets back to work. It’s hard to stay focused when all he can think about is whether his older brother is alive in well. He doesn’t have to try to focus for too long, because within a minute Kai is bursting into their office without preamble.

“Guys?” Kai frowns, hand on the doorknob, not entering the room completely. He looks slightly apprehensive, and Jongdae sighs to himself.

“What is it this time?”

“I think you’ll want to come see for yourself.” Kai turns on a heel and rushes back to his office. Jongdae and Han share a glance of confusion and promptly stand up to follow him.

Jongdae enters Kai’s office to be met with the back of a sopping wet man sitting at the desk. Poor man must have gotten caught in the rain. His eyes focus more on the man’s silhouette and suddenly the pieces click. He glances over to see Kai staring at him expectantly.

“Sehun?”

Sehun flinches at the sound of Jongdae’s voice. He rises slowly and turns. His friends face is streaked with water, and it’s not from the rain. His lips are quivering as if a sob is going to rip out of him at any moment. Jongdae’s premonitions a few months ago were correct. Something has gone terribly wrong.

“Leave us,” Jongdae orders, sending Kai and Han rushing out of the room as quickly as they came in. As soon as the door closes behind them, Sehun breaks down into full bodied sobs. Jongdae rushes to wrap his arms around him. “Shh, take deep breaths. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Everything has gone wrong, Jongdae,” Sehun chokes out between sobs into his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Sehun. I’m here for you.”

-

It takes almost half an hour for Sehun to cry all of his sorrows out. By the time he’s ready to talk, the sound of the thunder outside has calmed down. Kai had come in a few minutes ago, sheepishly darting in and out to grab his things. Jongdae feels slightly guilty for taking up the man’s workspace, but he figures it would do Kai some good to understand how cramped it can get in his shared office with Han.

“My father panicked at the all of the war sentiment last year,” Sehun is slumped in a chair, looking more dejected than Jongdae has ever seen him. It breaks his heart. “He made some risky deals with some Japanese trade companies. At the time, he told me that they were official trade agreements, however I came to find out only now that they were all under the table.”

Jongdae’s eyes widen. “What is the situation now, then?”

“Our money is gone, Jongdae.” Sehun glances up, eyes shining with fresh tears. “Every penny of it.”

Sehun exhales, curling up into himself. For such a tall man, he looked incredibly small right now.

“We can’t even sell anything to recover our debt,” Sehun mutters dejectedly. “Our home is almost valueless in the current economic climate.”

“Have you spoken the Chanyeol and his father?”

“My father has, against my wishes. They are helping, but there is only so much that can be done.” Sehun rises from his seat sluggishly. “I spent months trying to fix this mess, but I don’t think it’s possible. I can’t go back to Busan anymore. It’s no longer safe for me there.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Jongdae reassures him with a pat on the shoulder. “You can stay here for the time being and we’ll find you work.”

“I’m practically an illegal immigrant at this point, how?”

“Well, you’re lucky. One of the most important men in Tokyo is sitting in the room right next door.” Jongdae grins. “And he might just owe me a favor or two.”   

-

“Someone please explain to me how I ended up with a staff full of war prisoners and criminals?” Kai sighs at the end of their weekly debrief on factory matters.

“You did this to yourself, my friend,” Jongdae laughs at Kai’s pout. The worry lines on his face have aged him in the past year, but the youthfulness always returns when he pouts.

“Because of us, you will soon be one of the richest men in Japan,” Han reminds him. “So shut your mouth and appreciate us for once.”

Kai’s frown deepens while Sehun’s wide eyes flit between them in wonder. He is still uncharacteristically quiet, having only been working with them for a few days. Jongdae is certain that with the amount of fooling around they do on a regular basis, he’ll assimilate rather quickly.

His boss has taken to Sehun pretty quickly, likely excited to finally have someone his own age around. Sehun spent his first couple days learning the ropes in Kai’s office. Jongdae and Han decided it would be better if he just stayed there permanently. There was absolutely no more room in their tiny office, and three people would simply be too many. It would do Kai some good to have company during the day. Spending all of his time alone in a room couldn’t be good for him. Jongdae can say with complete honesty that there are some days that Han’s presence is the only thing preserving his sanity.

Jongdae is happy to have the chance to spend quality time with his friend again. They’ve brought an extra cot into their room, so Sehun travels to and from work with the two of them. It’s cramped, but they spend such little time there that they’d rather have the space to themselves to discuss business matters. Luckily the men of the hostel keep to themselves, allowing for the three of them to have all the privacy they need to speak about work.

“So, Sehun,” Jongdae starts with a grin on his face, tone teasing. “How are you adjusting?”

“Oh, shut up Jongdae.” Sehun rolls his eyes. Kai and Han’s jaws drop. Sehun is so properly behaved that they likely think he’s an angel. Jongdae knows better. “I’m doing just fine.”

Everyone chuckles at that. Kai stands to wrap up the meeting.

“I’m glad to hear it, Sehun. Well in that case, let’s get back to work, alright? I need those proposals completed before we leave today. And Jongdae, draft up a new productivity report if you can. Our output statistics are declining for some reason and I can’t figure out what’s wrong.”

“It’s our turnover rates,” Jongdae frowns. “They’re skyrocketing because people are heading off to the military. If we have to keep training new workers at this rate, our output is going to suffer.”

“What can we do to fix this, then?” Han asks, eyebrows furrowing.

“Well,” Sehun starts out confidently, but freezes as his wariness takes over. He’s still too shy to speak his mind around Kai and Han.

“Go on, we haven’t got all day,” Kai prompts him, tapping on his desk with urgency.

“Oh, alright. Well,” Sehun takes a deep breath and turns towards Kai. “I’ve been looking at the criteria you’ve been using to recruit workers. I understand that they should be able bodied, however, the people you’re looking at are perhaps _too_ able bodied.”

“What do you mean? We need our workers to be strong so they can get the work done,” Kai retorts.

“Again, I agree, but the most able bodied men are going to be the ones that go straight to the military. We must be looking for competent men who wouldn’t the first to get snatched up by the conscription.”

“That’s brilliant,” Han hums, eyes wide. Jongdae swells with pride. It’s a damn good idea.

Kai is silent for a bit, lips wavering as he struggles to find the words to admit he was wrong. Sehun seems to notice and saves him from his misery.

“If you would like, I can get started on drafting a plan to reform our recruitment?” Sehun offers tentatively.

“Sounds perfect. Ask us if you have any questions.” Kai nods, looking a little flustered. Usually when Jongdae and Han prove him wrong, they tend to be as obnoxious as possible about it. Sehun, on the other hand, is timid at best. Kai seems to have no idea how to respond.

“If that’s it, let’s get back to work boys, we have a company to run.”

-

It’s probably one of the most foolish things Jongdae has done. He knows this as he walks into a part of town that he really shouldn’t be in. But he’s already there, and he there’s someone he really needs to meet.

Everything is rusting around him, and people are staring at him. It’s not the kind of place where people go unless they belong there, and Jongdae most definitely does not. He hopes that he can find his point of contact and get out of here as soon as possible. He didn’t tell anyone before he left, so if god forbid something is to happen this would mark the second time that he disappears from his loved ones without warning.

He’s having trouble navigating the narrow roads to find the man in question, so he identifies the least threatening person he can find to ask. His eyes settle on an older lady sitting outside a closed shop, counting the day’s earnings. There aren’t many bills in her hand.

“Excuse me, where can I find Mr. Wu?”

The lady looks up and narrows her eyes at him. She takes one look at the clothes he’s wearing and suspicion clouds her expression. Even the cheap clothes he had on were too much for this part of the city. He should have dressed down.

“Who are you?”

“I am in search of someone that Mr. Wu might know. He is my brother.” Jongdae pauses, testing out the reaction. The mention of family seems to strike a chord. “I haven’t seen him in almost two years, and I have no idea where he might be.”

The lady considers his words carefully. Her eyes pierce his as she debates whether or not to trust him.  

“Take a right turn at the red stop sign and enter the third building on your left. He will be inside,” the lady pauses. “Be careful with Yifan. He can be an angry man if he wants to be.”

“Understood,” Jongdae nods, bowing with gratitude. “Thank you so much. I am in debt to you.” She waves him off on his way.

Jongdae finds the building within a minute. It’s old and run down with a cement exterior. The blue is peeling, and evidenced by the cobwebs decorating the gate, the home isn’t kept very well by its owner. He tentatively steps inside the gate to see that the front door to the home is left slightly open. After a few unanswered knocks, he carefully pushes the door open.

“Hello? Is anyone home?”

Jongdae’s call is answered by silence. He stands in the entry way for two beats before he hears the clang of a glass coming from down the hall. Following the noise, he leads himself down the hall to find a young man sitting in a chair, nursing a glass full of alcohol. At first glance, his features are strikingly sharp. A closer look shows scars littering the man’s arms. He’s almost too tall to fit into the tiny chair. There is a hardened expression on his face. The expression of someone who’s been through far too much.

“Mr. Wu,” Jongdae softly attempts to gain the the man’s attention. He barely makes any move to acknowledge Jongdae’s presence, simply jerking his head to the chair opposite to his. Jongdae understand and moves around the side table to take a seat. The room is barely nicer than the outside of the house. Everything seems to be in varying degrees of disarray. Almost as if someone had decided to start cleaning up, only to give up halfway through.

“Call me Yifan,” the man speaks finally in Korean. Jongdae wonders how he knows how to speak it. “You’re looking for your brother, are you Kim Jongdae?”

“Yes. I have been for some time now and I all I’ve been hitting are dead ends.”

Yifan pauses, considering his words. It’s silent for a couple seconds before he begins to tell his story.

“I was living in Korea when this whole mess began, working at the same factory as Jongdeok. We were on the same boat when they brought us here. They had us starting in the same factory in Kyoto at first. The conditions were some of the worst I’ve experienced in my life, when I had the chance to escape, I took it.” Yifan takes a gulp from his glass. Jongdae glances at the bottle sitting on the side table; it’s almost empty.

“And Jongdeok? What of him?”

Yifan frowns, as if he doesn’t want to share the news he has. “He left before I did. To join the armed forces.”

Jongdae’s heart drops.

“Last I heard, he was at the Hiroshima Naval Base.” Jongdae’s fear deepens. Hiroshima was incredibly far from Tokyo.

“Do you have his contact? Is there a way for me to reach out to him?”

Yifan shakily rises from his seat to walk over to the cabinet placed in the corner of the room. The floorboards creak with every step he takes. He has a slight limp, likely injured. Jongdae wonders if it’s permanent. He returns with a slip of paper with Jongdeok’s contact information in his hands. Jongdae takes it gratefully and slips it into his coat pocket carefully.

“Thank you so much.” Jongdae stays seated. He has no idea where to go from here.

“You best be on your way out now,” Yifan warns him, settling back in his seat and picking up his glass for another sip. He doesn’t seem to want to talk very much. “This neighborhood isn’t safe once it gets too late.”

Jongdae rises carefully. “Is there anyway I can repay you. I am truly in debt to you, Wu Yifan.”

Yifan looks up at him, slight smile on his face.

“Just be careful, my friend. It’s not easy to stay safe these days.”

Jongdae’s eyes widen in surprise. He nods and bows deeply. “Thank you again.”

As he begins to walk towards the entryway of the room, Yifan says one last thing to him. “He is a dear friend of mine. Enough of my friends have succumbed to the perils of war as it is, so please find him if you can, Jongdae. And if you do, keep him safe.

“Perhaps someday, we will be lucky enough to meet again.”

-

“Any letters for me?” Jongdae asks Han when he returns with the post for the day. It’s been two weeks since he’s sent a letter to the address Yifan gave him, and he’s been eagerly awaiting a response. He can’t help hoping for one every day, even if it would likely take closer a month before he gets a letter back. If he even gets one at all.

“Sorry, not yet,” Han sighs, shuffling through the stack on letters. “There’s quite a few for Kai. Another one for Sehun. I think it’s your turn to deliver today.”

Jongdae groans and grabs the letters from his friend’s hands. “You’re only saying that because Kai was stressed out this morning and you’re scared that he’s going to yell at you.”

“No, I’m saying it because it’s your turn!” Han defends, trying to fight the smirk creeping onto his face.

“It’s only my turn when Kai is upset, you idiot.”

Jongdae pouts as he makes his way to the office next door. Taking a deep breath, he opens the door, hoping Kai doesn’t curse him out today. He did seem quite unnerved this morning.

The first thing he thinks when he enters is that he really should have knocked. All he can do is gasp loudly, because it seems that Kai was relieving this mornings stress quite passionately - with his lips attached to Sehun’s neck.

They seem to hear Jongdae and spring apart, eyes wide and panting. Jongdae must look like he’s about to cry, because Sehun looks rather concerned.

Then again, Sehun’s concern isn’t very misplaced.

“I don’t think I can unsee that,” Jongdae whispers, face distorted into a look of horror and disgust. He takes a good look at their disheveled appearances. “Glad to see you both are getting lots of work done in here.”

“It’s not-” Sehun starts before cutting himself off, not knowing what to say.

“It’s not what?” Kai turns to Sehun with his brows furrowed.

“I mean, it is,” Sehun says to Kai. He then turns to Jongdae. “But it’s not…”

They all stare at each other in silence, waiting for someone to make the next move. Jongdae decides that it will be him because he wants to get out of this room as soon as possible. He walks over to the desk and unceremoniously drops the letters on top of it before walking back to the door.

“I really don’t care what it is or isn’t,” Jongdae twists the door open to leave. “All I know is that I’m never coming in here without knocking again. Please go back to whatever _that_ was.” He turns his gaze to Kai and narrows his eyes. “Hurt him and you die. Also, you better have that proposal done by the evening. God, sometimes I feel like the only person who does any work around here.”

With that he shuts the door behind him and returns to the safety of his own office.

“Was he mad? Did he yell?” Han asks him the minute he enters.

“Not exactly, no.” Jongdae’s face is scrunched up into an expression of discomfort. He has no qualms with any relationship his friends decide to engage in, but two of the people he’s closest to in that compromising position is something he’d like to never experience again.

“Really?” Han’s eyes widen. “Hm, maybe I should have gone today, then.”

“Oh no, you should be glad you didn’t.”

At this, Han looks significantly confused. He studies the expression on Jongdae’s face.

“You look a tad bit sick? Is everything okay?”

“Absolutely not, Han. Now shut up and get back to work.”

 

 **_April 14_ ** **_ th _ ** **_1940_ **

_I am patiently awaiting news from my brother. I can only pray he is alright. News from Korea is telling us that things are looking optimistic. That maybe we will all get the chance to rightfully return to our homes in due time. In the meantime, I will continue to work hard and learn as much as I can. I am starting to realize that coming to Japan has allowed me learn about what I would truly like to do in the future. Someday I will make ships under my own name._

_Until the time comes, all I can do is wait._

 

 


	10. January 2019

Jongdae hovers just outside of Luhan’s door, teetering between both of his feet. He’s have to have been outside for at least five minutes now, and people are starting to give him strange looks. When he finally raises his hand to knock, Luhan’s voice cuts him off before his knuckle meets the wooden door.

“Will you just come in already?” Luhan gasps with exasperation. It’s loud, and if most of the office wasn’t staring at him already, they were staring now. He quickly flings the door open in an effort to hide from prying eyes, stalking into Luhan’s office with a slight pout on his face. Crumpling into the chair across from his mentor, Jongdae simply takes a big breath and sighs. His shoulders slump in dejection.

“I couldn’t find the evidence.” Jongdae’s head rolls back and he lets out a groan of frustration. “I can’t find it _anywhere_. How is that possible?”

“Have you spoken to Sehun yet?” Luhan shuffles papers on his desk, glancing up at Jongdae meaningfully. The look of mild exasperation still paints his face. “Do you ever listen?”

“He’s just so busy, I don’t want to bother-”

“Jongdae, you are equally as busy, and helping you is his job.” Luhan runs a hand through his messy blond hair. It’s not styled today, and it’s been growing out. Jongdae should remind him to go get a haircut. “Now go and talk to him before I drag you over there myself, understood?”

Jongdae nods sheepishly and stands from his seat, making a move to slink over to Sehun’s desk.

“And Jongdae? Would you mind staying a little late today?” Luhan adds before Jongdae makes it completely out of the office. “I need to talk to you about something important.”

Jongdae’s brows furrow in concern. The tone of Luhan’s voice sounds rather serious – not in a bad way, but it still has Jongdae concerned.

“Is everything okay?” Jongdae prompts, confusion etched onto his face.

“You keep forgetting that I’m your mentor.” Luhan rolls his eyes, picking up files off of his desk and organizing them into folders. “It’s nothing serious, just knock on my door when you’re done for the day.”

Jongdae nods and makes the rest of his way out. He snakes through the office to Sehun’s desk, only to find him missing. With a frown, he walks a little further to his favorite co-worker’s desk.

“Do you know where Sehun is?” Jongdae asks, sneaks up on Chanyeol who is deeply absorbed in his work. He jumps slightly, somehow managing to send papers flying everywhere. Jongdae sighs and begins to help him pick them up begrudgingly, cursing Chanyeol’s lack of coordination under his breath.

“He’s out in the field doing work,” Chanyeol relays while retrieving his work off of the ground. “Why?”

“I need his help to get my hands on some evidence for this stupid case,” Jongdae grimaces.

“You don’t look to too happy about that. Which case is it?”

“The Samuelson embezzlement one.” Jongdae taps his pen against the wall of Chanyeol’s cubicle. “It’s a drag.”

“A drag? This is the one with the CFO that stole millions right under the nose of the board of directors isn’t it?” Chanyeol’s eyes widen as he returns to his seat. “If you’re bored give it to me! That case is so interesting.”

Jongdae considers this for a moment and shrugs. Perhaps it was, but after working on a few more meaningful cases, busting the dads of his Upper-East Side friends no longer seemed like as much fun.

“I guess,” Jongdae shrugs, nervous tapping increasing speed. “Anyways, if you see Sehun, tell him to come over to my desk. I’m desperate.”

Chanyeol affirms him with a spastic nod and some finger guns, and Jongdae tries to keep himself from screaming in annoyance. He fails with flying colors.

“You’re such an idiot, oh my god.”

-

It’s a miracle when he finally finishes all of his work for the day. Jongdae glances at his watch. It’s already 8:00 PM. After lethargically packing up, he finally makes his way to Luhan’s office. The light in his office one of the only lights still lit on their floor.

“Still working?” Jongdae calls, making his way over to his usual seat in the office. Sometimes it feels like he spends more time at Luhan’s desk than his own. Sometimes it feels like he spends more time in this office building that he spends at his own house.

“You know how it goes,” Luhan sighs, turning away from his computer and towards Jongdae. They’ve been working a lot lately, and the grey overcast under Luhan’s eyes mirrors his own.

“So,” Jongdae leads, leaning back farther in his chair. The exhaustion from the day is slowly creeping into him now that he’s finished working. “What did you want to talk about?”

“It’s pretty much the usual. As your mentor, I’m obligated to make sure you’re adjusting well,” Luhan pauses, fiddling with the cuffs of his dress shirt. “And, I guess I can say that I’ve noticed a few things.”

“About what?” Nervousness starts building up in Jongdae’s stomach. “Is it about my work?”

“Yes,” Luhan states plainly. “Don’t get me wrong, Jongdae. You’re a fantastic worker.”

Jongdae waits for the ‘but’.

“But, you’re not happy here, are you?” Luhan asks, eyes piercing Jongdae’s as if he’s trying to look into his soul. His eyes widen in shock. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Immediately, Luhan’s expression softens. “I’m not trying to attack you, I just want to help you figure it out.

“I’ve been working in this field for four years now. I’m telling you from experience that you will be miserable if you don’t love it. At least to a certain level,” Luhan explains softly, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. “So talk to me, and let’s figure it out.”

“I’m not _unhappy_ ,” Jongdae shrugs, attempting to both sort out his feelings and voice them simultaneously. As much as he trusts Luhan, he doesn’t want to say something stupid. “I love our team and the work keeps me busy, I guess.”

“But?”

“But it’s not what I want to do.” Jongdae sighs. In this moment, he’s admitting it to Luhan as much as he’s admitting it to himself, and it floods his entire system with fear. “I don’t know what it is that I really want, though.”

“Have you thought about it?” Luhan asks matter-of-factly. It’s not condescending – just inquisitive. There’s a small smile on his face, as if he knows something that Jongdae doesn’t. When Jongdae doesn’t respond he chuckles. “You have, I know it.”

“International Human Rights Law, it’s-” Jongdae takes a deep breath and lets it out, frowning.

“Almost impossible to break into?” Luhan finishes the sentence for him. He crosses his arm and the smile on his face gets a little bigger.

“Yeah, exactly.” It’s nice to know that Luhan also knows how absurd his dream sounds. The ridiculousness of it is partially the reason he’s been keeping it to himself. He hasn’t even told Baekhyun yet.

“Jongdae, you’re one of the most talented lawyers I’ve seen in a long time. Don’t sell yourself short.” Luhan leans over and claps him on the shoulder. It’s somewhere between a friendly gesture of comfort and _get your shit together_.  “Besides, you’re at one of the top law firms in the country with an incredible international network. You’re better positioned than you could dream of being. If this is really what you want, we’ll get you there.”

“You really think it’s possible?” Jongdae is skeptical. His browser search history is full of statistics that told him this wouldn’t be possible. “Luhan, the stats are insane.”

“Dude.” Luhan rolls his eyes and groans. “You went to two Ivy League schools and are working for one of the top law firms in not even the country, but the _world_. You of all people shouldn’t be worried about statistics.”

“I guess you’re right,” Jongdae shrugs, frown still decorating his face.

“No you shouldn’t guess. You should know,” Luhan grins at him. “Just wait and see, Jongdae. I’m going to make you famous.”

-

“Don’t be nervous, just talk to him,” Yixing calms him through the phone line. Jongdae forces the tension out of his shoulders as he stands outside one of the fanciest restaurants in Manhattan. “Keep it casual, Jongdae. He’s like a marshmallow! Harmless and squishy.”

From the pictures Jongdae has seen, Kris Wu does not seem very squishy at all. The lawyer was infamous for being one of the most successful international lawyers in the world, and also for being cool as ice. He had a reputation for his stoic expression, and apparently he rarely smiles.

Through some stroke of luck, it turned out that Luhan and Yixing have a good relationship with the man. Before Jongdae could even stop and think, a meeting was set up, and now Jongdae is standing outside in the cold shaking in his suit.

“Alright, I’ll give it a shot,” Jongdae sighs. “Thanks again Yixing, it means a lot.”

“Don’t even start with me, young man,” Yixing chides, smile apparent in his voice. “You’re all my children. it’s my duty to make sure you’re getting the best of the best!”

Jongdae smiles and rolls his eyes, saying his goodbyes as he hangs up the phone. Yixing has definitely grown on him in the months since he’s started working at Sullivan. After learning that it would be better to just embrace Yixing’s personality rather than feel uncomfortable, Jongdae’s time at the office has become much easier.

Jongdae finally chances a step into the restaurant after pep talking himself for a few more seconds. It’s one of those high class Italian places meant strictly for business meetings. The lighting isn’t low enough to be romantic, but isn’t bright enough to be too jarring. Men and women in suits sit all around the restaurant schmoozing and negotiating deals. Overhearing stressed out bankers complaining about the dip in the market today certainly doesn’t help Jongdae control his nerves.

When he finally spots Kris, he instantly decides that the man is far more intimidating in person than he is in photographs. His nerves immediately go wild, and he has to take a few deep breaths before squaring his shoulders. He doesn’t know where he summons it from, but he manages to feign confidence as he strolls up to the table with a small smile on his face.

“Kris Wu correct? I’m Jongdae. It’s nice to meet you,” Jongdae greets, bowing a little before he holds out an arm for a handshake. Kris stands and nods, returning his handshake with a firm grip, lips quirked up slightly in what might be a smile. His expression still looks cold, so Jongdae isn’t quite sure.

“You as well,” Kris nods returning to his seat. “Have a seat. I ordered some wine, it should be on the way.”

“Oh, thank you,” Jongdae jerks his head a little in what he hopes is a nod. It’s probably not, because Kris’ barely their smile turns into a full on grin.

“Don’t be nervous, I’m not as scary as I look. Unless I’m in court of course,” Kris chuckles, reaching for a piece of bread from the basket sitting on the table in between them. Jongdae realizes how hungry he is and follows suit. “So, I spoke to Luhan and Xing earlier. International law, huh?”

“I guess so,” Jongdae shrugs, lightly buttering his bread. He glances up tentatively, not sure where this conversation should go from here.

“Well, I hope you have a good memory,” Kris says, dusting some crumbs off of his jacket. “Because I’m about to tell you everything you need to know.”

-

“Sir?”

Jongdae stands in line at his usual Starbucks, prepared list of orders ready in hand. He’s franticly tapping away at his phone in an effort to respond to Baekhyun’s text messages that he’s been ignoring for the last day.

His brain is still filtering through all of the information Kris Wu gave to him the day before yesterday. It’s been ages since Jongdae has been _excited_ about his career, and after speaking with Kris, he knows now more than ever that international law is what he wants to do. Having the opportunity to change people’s life for the better finally gives him the meaning he’s been lacking. It wouldn’t be easy, but he is willing to do whatever it takes to earn himself the career he wants.

“Sir?”

Jongdae reads at the speed of light through the paragraphs of messages that Baekhyun has sent. With all of the meetings he’s set up and research he’s been doing, staying in communication with Baekhyun has gotten a bit difficult. A feeling of dread creeps into him. Baekhyun is _angry._

“JONGDAE KIM?” His head whips up to see Johnny the Barista staring him down with irritation. “Would you like to order sometime this century?”

“Yes, uh.” Jongdae shuffles up to the counter, throwing an apology back to the people behind him in line. He unfolds the piece of paper and hands it to Johnny the Barista who looks incredibly apprehensive.

“Can you tell your boss to chill?” he sighs. “This is getting out of hand.”

Jongdae shrugs sheepishly in return while Johnny the Barista painstakingly enters the order into the system.

“Anyways, what were you sighing about? Trouble in paradise with Baekhyun?”

Jongdae sighs as he fiddles around with his Starbucks app to stop it from glitching so he can pay. “I’ve just gotten busy with some career changes lately. I haven’t really had time to spend with him and I think he isn’t too happy about it.”

“Fair enough,” Johnny the Barista shrugs. “But you should talk to him. He’s been coming in here lately and moping around. Might as well explain it to him so he doesn’t have to keep guessing.”

Jongdae’s eyebrows furrow. Why has Baekhyun been coming all the way over here for coffee?

“Look, a barista gets to know his customers, and I can tell Baekhyun is insecure about his relationship with you,” Johnny the Barista analyzes seriously and points towards Jongdae’s phone. “You need to reassure him that everything is okay, otherwise things will just keep getting worse over there.”

It’s in this moment that Jongdae realizes that he has quite the issue on his hands. If Johnny the Barista knows more about his relationship than even he does, that means something is seriously wrong.

“Thanks, man,” Jongdae quirks, tilting his head to the side in confusion. He doesn’t know what just happened, but obviously he has some fixing to do. “I’ll see you tomorrow with another fantastic order.”

Johnny the Barista groans as Jongdae walks away, eyes skimming his phone screen in an effort to figure out what he can do to placate Baekhyun’s anger.

When his eyes skim over the line, _I feel like you don’t care about this relationship as much as I do_ , that’s when he knows.

He’s totally screwed.

-

“Baekhyun, I’m sorry but I _had_ to go to the meeting. This is the only time Minho Choi had to sit down with me,” Jongdae tries to explain through the phone as he walks into his living room that Thursday night.

_“Are you kidding me? We’ve had this reservation for weeks, Jongdae. This is the fourth time in a row that you’ve blown me off.”_

“I promise it won’t happen again, next week is more manageable I swear.” Jongdae wedges his phone between his shoulder and ear as he walks over to the couch to put his things down. The stiff dress clothes he’s had on all day are stifling and he can’t wait to change out of them. He sees Kyungsoo lounging on the sofa reading through cases and throws him a nod of greeting.

Baekhyun is silent on the other end of the line, and that nagging feeling of guilt rushes through him with full force for the hundredth time this week. The last time Jongdae had been this busy, he was knee deep into law school. Luckily he was completely unattached and without anyone to let down back then.

_“You know what, I’m going to sleep.”_

“Alright,” Jongdae sighs. “I’m sorry again, okay? I love you.”

Jongdae listens to the silence of Baekhyun’s heavy pause.

_“I love you too. Goodnight.”_

The line goes dead almost immediately and Jongdae sighs, dumping his things onto the couch parallel to the one Kyungsoo is sitting on and crumbling down next to them instantly.

“Baekhyun came over a few hours ago,” Kyungsoo mentions, not looking up from his papers. At the sound of the irritated tone in his voice, Jongdae internally groans. Perhaps he should add his best friend to the quickly growing list of people who hate him. “I’m not going to ask you why you bailed, but I will ask you something else. When is the last time you saw him, Jongdae? And by that I mean for more than ten minutes in passing.”

“It’s only been two weeks,” Jongdae shrugs, frowning. He knows how bad it sounds, but he can’t admit that out loud.

“ _Only_ two weeks _?_ For two people who live fifteen minutes **walking** distance away from each other that’s ridiculous, and you know that. I’m supposed to be on your side in this, but you’re making pretty damn hard for me.”

Kyungsoo sets his papers on the coffee table and finally looks up at Jongdae.

“I’ll fix it, I promise,” Jongdae attempts getting up and walking towards his room to change. “Soon.”

“Not good enough. Go change and sit your ass back down on this couch. We’re talking about this.” Kyungsoo gives him a glare that could wilt flowers, and it has Jongdae scurrying off to his room to change in record speed. When he’s back on the couch two minutes later, he’s ten times more comfortable, but a hundred times more nervous. Kyungsoo’s glare hasn’t changed even a little. Jongdae has thought many times that his best friend would make a great statue.

“Now, explain. I get that you’re passionate about international law, and don’t get me wrong, I’m excited for you. This is the first time I’ve seen you excited about something since, well, Baekhyun. Which leads me to ask, what the fuck are you doing to Baekhyun?”

“I didn’t mean to become so distant, I’m just so busy. When I’m not working, I’m planning things, and it’s _hard_ Kyungsoo. Proving my worth to the few people who are willing to listen to me is exhausting. I’ve never been the best at anything, so that means I’m going to have to work twice as hard to get this.”

Kyungsoo lets out a pointed noise of frustration. “You’re such an idiot, oh my god.”

“Would you care to specify exactly what you mean, because that can currently apply to a vast number of areas in my life.” Jongdae grabs the throw blanket from the arm of the couch and warps it around himself, snuggling into the couch hopelessly.

“Jongdae, you’re smarter than anyone I’ve met in my life. The reason that I always did better than you in school is because you never fucking tried and I did. Do you know how many times Jongin complained to me about doing worse than you on a test that he’s studied hours for when you didn’t even open the goddamn book?”

Jongdae frowns, eyebrows furrowing. “What are you talking about, of course I study!”

“If you call staring at your textbook for ten minutes and then scrolling through Instagram for the next hour studying, then sign me the fuck up. I’m not saying that you don’t need to try, because you do, but if anyone can overcome the competitiveness of international law, it’s _you_ Jongdae Kim. Especially now that you give a fuck.”

“You really think so?” Jongdae probes, unable to dispel the feeling of uncertainty that’s been sitting in his gut for weeks.

“I know so. Start believing it yourself,” Kyungsoo urges getting up form his seat to walk over and join him across the coffee table. He wraps his arms around Jongdae, who immediately melts into the embrace. “Now, tell me about Baekhyun. It’s not just him that’s insecure about your relationship is it?”

After twelve years of friendship, Jongdae should be used to Kyungsoo being able to read his mind, yet it surprises him every time.

“Baekhyun knows how to do all of this. How to chase after his dreams, lean on the people around him, and do the whole relationship thing. I don’t know how to talk to him about this stuff. Or anyone for that matter. It’s hard even with you.”

“You’re going to have to learn how to ‘do the whole relationship thing’, Jongdae. It’s kind of part of being in a relationship. And who better to learn from than from Baekhyun?”

“I guess you’re right,” Jongdae mumbles. Kyungsoo is always right.

Jongdae thinks about Baekhyun and how much he misses his boyfriend. He’s always had trouble with letting things slip away because he’s too scared to hold on, but Baekhyun is too important to him for him to let that happen.

Maybe it’s time he starts fighting just as hard for Baekhyun as he’s fighting for his career.   

-

“Why does it feel like I’m the only one that’s here for you?” Baekhyun huffs, pacing around the living room, glancing occasionally at Jongdae with hurt in his eyes. “Would it kill you to ask me how I’m doing? How my interviews are going?”

“I just got busy, Baekhyun I’m sorry”

After an uncomfortably tense lunch, Baekhyun had decided that he’s had enough. They’re finally having their big talk, and Jongdae has no idea how to placate his boyfriend. He knows things are going downhill unbelievably fast, but he has no idea how to save this argument.

“Do you know how to say anything other than sorry?”

“I’m trying, Baekhyun. Is that not enough for you?” Jongdae yells. He doesn’t want to yell, and he doesn’t know why he’s doing it. It just happens, and every party of Jongdae regrets it.

Baekhyun’s eyes flash with anger. “It’s not, Jongdae. It’s not enough. Are you even trying, or are you just pretending to?”

Jongdae opens his mouth to counter, but he can’t come up with anything. He wants to tell Baekhyun that he’s just scared and that he still loves him more than anything, but nothing comes out.

“I’m sick of feeling like I’m the only one in this relationship. Jongdae, I love you, but not enough to feel like this all the time.” Baekhyun’s voice wavers, but he stays strong. “I’m sick of feeling so hurt.”

“Baekhyun, I love you too,” Jongdae pleads, standing up and grabbing onto Baekhyun’s hand. He squeezes it, trying to convey the feelings he can’t verbalize with his touch. Baekhyun looks into his eyes, and the hard expression on his face softens by a small fraction.

“I know,” Baekhyun starts. Jongdae closes his eyes tightly, not wanting to hear what’s coming next. He prepares himself for the worst. “But I’m just so tired.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I got the job at the Times, so I’ll be busy with transitioning for the next couple of weeks.” Baekhyun slips his hand out of Jongdae’s grip. Jongdae’s jaw drops and his eyes go wide. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, but you kept bailing on our dinner dates, and a phone call didn’t feel right.”

“Baekhyun, that’s amazing,” Jongdae murmurs, guilt coursing through his body and settling in his stomach. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” Baekhyun exhales, a small smile on his face. Jongdae wants to hold him close and tell him that he knew Baekhyun could do it, but something stops him. There’s a part of him feels like he shouldn’t. Baekhyun is slowly putting up walls, and Jongdae doesn’t feel like he deserves to knock down.

“Let’s take a break, Jongdae.”

Jongdae freezes, and tears well up in his eyes.

“Baekhyun, we can figure this out.” He moves to hold Baekhyun’s hand again, but the other takes a step back, removing himself from Jongdae’s reach.

“Just a for a bit, alright?” Baekhyun reaches up and strokes his fingers along Jongdae’s cheekbone, wiping away a few of his tears. “I love you, okay? But right now, I have to go.”

Baekhyun turns on a heel and stalks out of Jongdae’s living without a glance backwards. Jongdae crumbles back onto the couch.

As he watches Baekhyun walk away from him, he realizes that fighting for something is easier said than done. Every part of him wants to get up from where he’s sitting to chase after him.

But he doesn’t.

 

**_January 15_ ** **_ th _ ** **_, 1942_ **

_It’s been a month since Japanese forces have attacked the Americans at Pearl Harbor, and Tokyo continues to experience chaos. It no longer feels safe here, yet it seems as if there is no where else to go. War surrounds us on every direction, and soon, it will be harder to hide than ever before._ _H says we must make plans to escape, yet something is stopping me._

 

_Something is stopping me from running away. And whatever that is might get me killed._

 

 


	11. January 1942

Jongdae walks through the streets of Tokyo, bundled in a hand-me-down jacket from Kai and wearing as many layers of clothing as he could mange to fit under it. There is an undercurrent of nervous energy traveling throughout the city, likely inspired by the wake of Japan’s recent attack on the Americans. The fear of retaliation is sitting just under the skin of everyone living in Tokyo. If the rumors were correct, the imminent threat wouldn’t be diminishing anytime soon. It feels like people have been saying this for years, but the war is still just only beginning.

Jongdae couldn’t have imagined his life becoming mundane in Tokyo. Until the Attack on Pearl Harbor, his life had been rather tedious. He wakes up every morning for a brutally long day at work and manages to eat and sleep somewhere in the day. About a year ago at Kai’s urging, Han and him moved out of the worker’s quarters to a small, but comfortable apartment closer to the factory. With the success of their designs, production became hard to manage, leaving them with hours and hours of overtime work.

Jongdae welcomed the distraction, throwing himself completely into his work. As letters from his parents and friends from Korea began to dwindle, being left with his thoughts was never welcome. The only silver lining Jongdae had was being able to get back in touch with his brother. Jongdeok was safe in Hiroshima, and Jongdae could only hope that he stays that way.

When Jongdae finally enters the factory, the hot air curls around him. The workers are deep into their tasks, but many of them have smiles on their faces, engaged in conversation while they work. With Sehun managing the laborers, productivity and morale are at an all time high, even in the midst of the brutal war with men getting snatched up by the draft left and right. It took some convincing, but Kai finally allows him to travel through the factory freely. It’s been three years since he began working here, and his colleagues from his days on the assembly line were likely long gone.

Success at the factory has brought comfort for the four of them. If any Japanese officials were suspicious of what goes on upstairs in the back offices, they don’t ask questions. Kai’s business was too valuable to risk. Besides, it’s a story that no one with their right mind would believe. Three foreign men off the beaten path working for an heir to create one of the most revolutionary military ships? Unheard of.

Jongdae climbs the stairs and walks over creaky floorboards to his office. Han is nowhere to be found, so he steps over to Kai’s office. He gives the closed door three heavy knocks and hears some shuffling on the other side.

“Come in!” Sehun’s slightly choked voice calls moments later. Jongdae rolls his eyes and opens the door, closing his eyes for good measure.

“Is it safe in here?”

“Shut up,” Sehun whines. Jongdae feels a whack on his left bicep and his eyes fly open to see Sehun glaring at him dead in the eye. “What do you want? How was your secret meeting?”

Jongdae walks over to the desk to lean on it with a sigh. “It was fine, I just met with Yifan for a meal. The man gets too lonely for his own good. Where’s Han?”

“Off at his own secret meetings,” Kai sighs. “I should keep a better control over you two, it doesn’t feel like you guys even work these days.”

“With all of the ‘work’ you do in here with Sehun, you should probably be worrying more about yourself than us,” Jongdae shudders, rolling his sleeves up. It was strangely warm in the office and he doesn’t want to think about why.

“Well, Sehun is the only one around here who listens to me, and I can-”

“I wonder why. It’s not like you take Sehun to bed every night or anything,” Jongdae cuts him off before he can continue.  Kai’s jaw drops and he sputters incoherently.

“Boys boys, that’s enough,” Sehun laughs, rolling his eyes at them. “Anyways, Han has been going off quite a lot lately, hasn’t he? Who is he meeting with?”

“Someone from that network he’s always going on about,” Kai frowns. “I hope he’s staying safe.”

Jongdae echoes his sentiments, worry creeping into him. It would be very unlike Han to not have something up his sleeve. Han’s free spirit was often hard to tame.

“Well, he’s been meeting with these people for three years now, so I’m sure nothing is too out of the ordinary,” Sehun shrugs innocently.

“If there’s one thing we’ve learned about Han after all this time,” Jongdae chuckles. “It’s that nothing about him is ordinary.”

-

The clock ticking in his office seems especially loud today, for some reason. Jongdae has been unable to work for the past few hours, eyes flitting to the drawer containing the letter he received from Jongdeok this morning.

_Things are beginning to look rather bleak. The threat from the Americans is imminent, but no one knows where they will start. Tokyo will not be safe in the months to come, so I beg of you, please stay safe. Leave the city if you can._

His hand itches to open the drawer and pull the letter out once again. He ignores it, and instead forces himself to persevere through his work. His focus only lasts until Han comes bursting through the door. There’s a light sheen on his face, likely from the rain. Spring has come again, and the snow has been melting – leaving way for continuous showers. The gloomy weather has been a perfect reflection of their moods. Every day that goes by, their anxiety builds. With the letter Jongdae received this morning, there is no doubt that the situation in Tokyo will soon become grave.

Han’s expression is strange as he sets his things down and takes a seat. His meetings have become more frequent in the past days, yet the man has stayed tight lipped about what exactly he’s been doing. Jongdae is suspicious, but he lets it go. Han is a grown man, and out of anyone he knows in Tokyo, he is likely most capable of taking care of themselves.

“You look out of sorts,” Jongdae inquires nonchalantly, barely sparing a glance up from the document he’s been struggling to read for the past hour. Han has been going off more than ever before, and Jongdae finds it hard to ask about his safety without prying too much. “What intriguing things did you do today at your secret meeting?”

“You know I’m not allowed to share,” Han chuckles, shaking a few droplets out of his hair. He pauses for a moment, considering his words. “You could, however, join me next time.”

Jongdae’s ears perk up at the statement. He looks up in surprise. “Is that an invite I hear? All of a sudden?”

Han has famously made it a point to keep his secret life just that, a secret. Kai and himself used to incessantly beg their friend to take them along, only to be rejected every time. That was two years ago, and eventually they stopped asking.

“Things are becoming rather, interesting, if you will,” Han exhales. “Tokyo won’t be safe for much longer. We must plan our next steps.”

“We?” Jongdae raises his eyebrows, considering whether to bring up Jongdeok’s letter. “All of us?”

“Kai will be alright due to his status, and by extension that means Sehun will be too,” Han shrugs, fiddling with his pen on the table. “It is you and I that I am worried about.”

“You don’t think Kai would care for us?” Jongdae is almost offended that Han would think so little of the man who has kept them alive for three years.

“Of course he would, Jongdae,” Han frowns. “But imagine one of the richest men in Tokyo caring for three refuges in his home. It’s a ridiculous notion, and you know it! He’s already done enough for us. I can’t continue to let him take responsibility for our lives. He’s just a boy.”

Realization washes upon him at Han’s words. “I suppose you’re right. So what do you say? We just sneak out of Tokyo one night and never return?”

Luhan rolls his eyes and throws his pen at Jongdae playfully.

“Come to the next meeting. You’ll find out.”

-

Jongdae is tentative when he takes Han up on his offer, but he can’t help it. Three years of watching his best friend run off to dangerous rendezvous has ignited a curiosity in him that is desperate for satisfaction.

“So what exactly do you all do during these meetings?” Jongdae asks as they wind through the streets of Tokyo to Han’s undisclosed destination.

“The network is made up refugees like us that have found ourselves in situations that are better off than most,” Han explains, hand on Jongdae’s sleeve guiding him through the busy streets. It’s dinner time now and there are more people outside than Jongdae is used to. “We help plan escapes and figure out ways to expand the network. The leader, you’ll met him today, he has a plan to escape to Hiroshima in order to do just that. I thought it might be ideal for us to somehow tag along, with Jongdeok there and everything.”

“I suppose so,” Jongdae hums, stopping himself from asking too many questions while they’re in public.  The surroundings are unfamiliar to him. It surprises him that he’s lived in Tokyo for three years without having seen much of the city. “And this is all safe?”

“Of course it isn’t,” Han chuckles stopping in front of an unassuming pub and leading them both inside. “But we’re smart enough about it to evade getting caught.”

They walk through the relatively busy pub, finding their way into the back room. Immediately upon stepping inside, he feels incredibly out of place. There are young men seated across the room, and Han is immediately swept up into conversation with a handsome man. As the man falls into an easy conversation with Han in Chinese, the softest smile accompanied by a dimple appears on his face. With a small nod in their direction, Jongdae steps away, glancing around the room to observe his surroundings. The room is too small, already filled even with people continuing to filter in. The wooden chairs strewn around the room are flimsy, and there definitely aren’t enough of them for everyone to have a seat.

He waits for Han awkwardly in the corner until he hears murmurings of greeting directed towards the wooden arched entryway of the room. Whoever just walked in must be important, so Jongdae attempts to rise up on his toes to catch a glance. He sees a cane before he sees the man, and as his eyes continue upward, Jongdae’s jaw drops in shock.

“Yifan?” he mumbles to himself, eyebrows furrowing. This is certainly a surprise. When Yifan takes a seat across the room, he considers approaching, but thinks better of it when others begin to swarm him. Watching men deeply bow at Yifan in respect, is a conflicting image for Jongdae. The way the man looks today, shaven and properly dressed, is worlds apart from the shabby man he has tea with on a bi-weekly basis.

“Shall we get started?” a voice calls loudly from the other corner, silencing the room instantly. Everyone shuffles around to take a seat, turning to face the man standing in the corner on a giant wooden block. He is short, around Jongdae’s height, and has a charismatic presence.  When the room is settled, he begins speaking again. “Anyone have news?”

A well dressed man sitting not too far away from Yifan stands up and clears his throat. “I’ve received word from Osaka that a group of prisoners is planning escape to the countryside very soon.” The man turns towards Yifan. “Any advice I should give them, sir?”

“Ensure they are in contact with the correct people before they try anything reckless,” Yifan’s gruff voice echoes through the room. “Stay to speak with me after this meeting and we can discuss some other details.”

The man bows with respect. Yifan simply nods back and gestures toward the leader on the wooden block to continue.

“Anyone else?” he prompts, eyes sweeping around the room, locking briefly on Jongdae’s. A flash of confusion appears, but the man schools his expression back into one of subtle confidence. Jongdae deduces that the network doesn’t often entertain new members, given the number of strange looks he’s gotten since the meeting has started. “Well then, we have some planning to do. Young men, it’s high time that we escape Tokyo.”

-

Jongdae’s head is reeling when the meeting is over. The room begins bustling seconds after the leader calls close. Some take their leave, while others congregate in various corners of the room to make conversation. At a tug on his sleeve, Jongdae looks up to see Han gesturing him to follow his lead. Han walks over to the wooden block where the leader of the meeting stood speaking to a few enthusiastic network members.

“Baekhyun, I have someone I’d like to introduce you to,” Han calls, interrupting what must have been a casual conversation. The network members smile cordially and with a bow they leave to find another conversation to participate in.

“Ah yes,” Baekhyun nods, eyes inspecting Jongdae closely. “And who is this?”

“I’m Jongdae, nice to meet you.” Jongdae holds a hand out and is met with a firm grip. There’s a jovial glint in Baekhyun’s eyes, oddly misplaced among the hardened features decorating the remainder of his face.

“Jongdae, yes, I’ve heard quite a bit about you from Han,” he chuckles, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. “I’d trust any man that Han here brings along with him. Now tell me, Jongdae. What do you think of our plans? I’ve heard you’re quite the intelligent man from Yifan as well.”

Jongdae makes a mental note to find Yifan before he leaves. The network is seemingly more intriguing than he expected it to be.

“Everything sounds very well thought out,” Jongdae shares enthusiastically, holding himself back from passing judgment.

“I sense a however in there somewhere,” Baekhyun prompts, mischievous eyes shining. The corners of his mouth turn up into the most charming of smiles. “On with it, we don’t have much time to spare.”  

The smile is contagious and in seconds, Jongdae’s expression holds a mirror image version of it.

“Well, perhaps we should begin with your approach to the military guard,” Jongdae begins recalling his disagreement with some of the strategies Baekhyun announced during the meeting.

“Getting straight to the point aren’t we?” Han laughs, elbowing him in the side amicably. “This is why I’ve been telling you we need him around.”

Baekhyun’s smile widens as he nods in agreement.

“You seem to be right, Han. I think I might just like to keep him.”

-

“You two are insane,” Sehun seethes, on the verge of yelling. “You really thought we’d be okay with you doing something this stupid?”

He’s pacing angrily in Kai’s office while Kai sits in his chair, brows furrowed in rage. Kai has been silent for far too long, and that’s how Jongdae knows he’s angrier than they’ve ever seen him.

“It’s the only way,” Han reasons, attempting to rest a comforting hand on Kai’s shoulder, only to be shaken off instantly.

“The only way?” Kai’s voice is eerily calm and he sits unmoving in his place. “You seem to be forgetting that I own a _mansion_ in what is likely the safest area in Tokyo. You’re saying that the two of you running off to Hiroshima to get killed is the _only way_?”

“There’s no way you will be able to hide three refugees in your house without getting into trouble Kai. Not even someone as powerful as you.” Jongdae interjects. “I know you don’t like it, but this is the best we could come up with. We’ll be safe in Hiroshima as long as we can prove our intelligence and find our way to the military engineering division.”

“The military engineering division? That’s impossible. We can figure out something here,” Sehun huffs petulantly from the corner of the room that he’s backed himself into. Jongdae walks over and wraps his arms around his best friend.

“Luckily we know the right people,” Han reassures all of them. Even himself.  

Kai is silent again, but now in a different way. He’s wearing a resigned expression on his face. Even he doesn’t know how to get out of this one. Jongdae wishes he could comfort him.

“The landlords for the apartment you’ve set us up in came to us last week,” Jongdae sighs, breaking the silence in the room. “They want us out.”  
  
“There’s no where else to go,” Han whispers. “We must leave as soon as we can.”

“The workers’ quarters-”

“They’ve been almost emptied. The draft is snatching up all of the workers, we’ve been seeing men leaving the factory at record speeds in the last few weeks. We are not safe there.”

Kai clears his throat, eyes shining. He lets out a shaky breath before speaking. “When?”

“April,” Jongdae whispers.

“That’s less than a month away,” Sehun chokes out. “No.”

“I suppose we’ll have more work to do in the next month than we predicted then,” Kai frowns, eyes tired and dejected.

Silence engulfs the room yet again and a feeling of dread settles into Jongdae’s stomach as he realizes how little time they have left.

-

It seems almost too simple when Jongdae really thinks about it, taking a series of trains from Tokyo to Hiroshima. Frankly, Jongdae thinks it’s a terrible idea, but Han and Baekhyun are committed to hiding in plain sight. When Yifan offhandedly mentioned that it might work a few weeks ago, there was nothing stopping them, and Jongdae had resigned himself from the argument.

Jongdae could never have expected becoming such fast friends with Baekhyun. His bold and daring personality was the polar opposite to his own. It’s hard to think that it would have been possible to meet someone even wilder that Han, but Baekhyun proved him wrong.

They made an odd bunch together, two friends who have been through thick and thin and one man who had big dreams to save the world. Baekhyun’s uncurbed spirit to help as many people as possible has started to make Jongdae question his own goals. The man had officially handed off the Tokyo division to Yifan, claiming the tall Chinese man was more of a leader than he was anyways. Baekhyun was committed to getting knees deep in the heart of the action where more people would be in need of help. Jongdae on the other hand was simply hoping to make it through the war alive. Maybe he should want more for himself.

“Stay in touch, please.” Sehun nudges him with his elbow as they sit in Kai’s car. Kai was insistent about dropping them off at the station, waving off despite Han’s worries that it would draw too much attention. No one in Tokyo would dare to mess with him.

“I expect a letter every week,” Kai calls from the front seat. “The minute we lose touch with you, I swear I’ll have people searching for you all over Hiroshima.”

“You very well know that would be incredibly impractical,” Jongdae chuckles. “We’ll take care of ourselves, Kai. You have plenty to worry about here as it is. It won’t be easy for any of us to stay safe in the coming months.”

The military has begun a project to fortify safety around the manufacturing district where all the wartime production was taking place. It makes sense that the factories would be a prime target for western attacks, but that also puts Kai and Sehun in much more danger. They’d all have their own battles to fight as the war races unforgivingly towards its climax. Jongdae can only hope they’re all lucky enough to make it out safe.

The station is bustling when they arrive, much busier than any of them had imagined it would be.

“Looks like we’re not the only ones trying to flee from Tokyo,” Han mutters under his breath as he retrieves his luggage from the car. They make their way towards the platform and Kai immediately begins lecturing.

“It’s far more crowded than I had hoped it would be,” he warns them quietly. “You both have all the documents you need, right?”

Jongdae feels in his pockets for the forged documents Kai had somehow gotten for them in the weeks leading up to their trip. They would be assuming new identities for the trip as Japanese businessmen working for Kai’s company. Hopefully it’s believable enough to avoid too much suspicion. It wasn’t too far off from the truth anyways.

“Of course, boss,” Han pipes with a smile on his face. “You always seem to forget that we are older and _much_ more responsible than you.”

Jongdae spots Baekhyun through the crowd and leads the group towards him. The conductor is already announcing the call for boarding. There isn’t much more time left.

“Are you ready?” Baekhyun asks as soon as they are in earshot, forgoing any greetings. He nods briefly towards Kai and Sehun who return the sentiment.

“As ready as we’ll ever be,” Jongdae hums, eyeing the train. It would be wise for them to start boarding now, while most of the other passengers are as well. He feels Sehun’s fingers curl around his arm tightly in apprehension. Without preamble, he gives Sehun a tight hug that’s over before it even begins. They’ve said their goodbyes enough times already, and they have no intention of making a scene at the station. He does the same to Kai, and waits for Han to bid his quick farewells. Before he knows it, he’s heading towards the train without so much as a glance backwards.

From then on, he barely registers anything. The train begins to move and the conductor comes by their seats to scrutinize their travel documentation with obvious suspicion. It goes off without much of a hitch, to his relief, and he doesn’t have much time to think about anything before the exhaustion catches up to him and the rocking of the train lulls him to sleep.

-

Jongdae awakens to find an eager Baekhyun jostling his shoulder.  

“We’re here,” he breathes, eyes shining through the tiredness. Their suits are crumpled and they’ve been traveling for far too long. “Finally.”

It’s been over a day since they’ve left Tokyo, and they’ve been on four different trains. Miracle after miracle came and went and it seems they’ve somehow made it to Hiroshima without any disasters. Jongdae looks out of the window to see the outskirts of the city pass by him. By the time the train has stopped, the three of them are aching to get their feet on solid ground again. They disembark, meager luggage in hand, and make their way inside the station.

Jongdae can immediately tell something is off as they walk through the crowd. People are speaking in hushed tones, and although he can’t quite make out what they’re saying, there’s an ominous undercurrent flowing through the terminal.

“Something’s wrong,” Han whispers to the both of them. They hurry inside, searching for answers. Han finds them first, grabbing a newspaper of the nearest stand he can find.

“No,” he breathes out, facial expression twisting into something horrible. “No no no no. No. Oh my god.”

Jongdae’s eyebrows furrow and he rips the paper out of his friend’s hand to see for himself. Jongdae’s stomach drops the instant he lays his eyes on the headline.

_TOKYO ATTACKED. AIR RAID LEAVES 20 DEAD AND COUNTING._

He skims the article for any information. “The manufacturing district was hit the hardest, as predicted. Damages are still under assessment.”

“How do we find out?” Jongdae chokes out, eyes meeting Han’s distraught ones. His brain is already hard at work, drawing up the worst case scenarios.

“We can’t.” Han’s shoulders slump and he takes a deep breath.

“Not for a little while, at least,” Baekhyun adds softly, laying a comforting hand on Jongdae’s arm. The touch brings him back to reality, and his mind returns to the train station. The mustn’t stand around for too long.

“We shouldn’t loiter here. Let’s keep moving.” Jongdae ends the conversation sternly, squaring his shoulders and tucking the paper under his free arm. He starts towards the station exit with the other two following closely behind.  

There is no stopping the feeling of dread creeping through him despite his best efforts to push it down. When they finally walk out onto the busy Hiroshima streets, he reminds himself that they’ve left Tokyo behind. No matter what happens, this is their new life, and they have no choice but to move forward.

Even if it kills them on the inside.

 

 

**_April 30_ ** **_ th _ ** **_, 1942_ **

_I ask myself time and again whether the decisions we have made are in fact the right ones. With weeks passing and no word from any of our loved ones, sometimes it is hard to believe that they are._

 

_I know I must continue to persevere, however, I find myself asking now more than ever: at what cost?_

 

** July 1945 **

“We’ll have to move fast. Faster than we ever have before,” Baekhyun whispers as they sit in the corner of a pub. It’s crowded, and people don’t pay them any mind. The corporal insignia on Jongdae’s military uniform probably helped. His rank made him too well respected to be scrutinized. It’s come in handy many times in the last three years.

“How big is the group?” Jongdae inquires, sipping on his beer. He doesn’t really want to hear the answer. The schemes Baekhyun has up his sleeve are always too risky for Jongdae to stomach.

“Thirty-five?” Baekhyun’s voice turns sheepish while Jongdae’s jaw drops.

“Are you mad?”

“Han said it would be fine as long as they’re able to time their jump properly,” Baekhyun shrugs.

“That’s besides the point, Baek. How the hell are we going to get them on that train in the first place? If we keep this up, it won’t be long before my colleagues get suspicious of me.”

“It will be alright, trust me,” Baekhyun reassures him, and for the thousandth time, convinces him to abandon his rationality.  

Rules have always been something that Jongdae simply _followed._ Breaking the rules meant danger not only for himself, but for his entire family. Perhaps living on his own for seven years changed him. Or perhaps meeting Byun Baekhyun did.  

After arriving in Hiroshima, Han and Baekhyun abandoned their forged identities in search of factory work. Jongdae had expected it from Baekhyun, but thought Han would join him in his quest to become a military engineer. It turns out that Han wanted to be closer to people in need of help, inspired by the years he spent in the network while they were still in Tokyo.

Jongdae had instead followed Yifan’s leads to find a position as an engineer in the military forces. His talent allowed him to rise in ranks at a record speed. With his higher rank came a level of freedom he hadn’t experienced in years, and he used it to help Han and Baekhyun fight for the innocent.

It was dangerous and unconventional, but Jongdae found himself feeling more fulfilled than he had in years. Working so closely for the enemy would have driven him mad if he hadn’t found an outlet through helping the network.

“Fine,” Jongdae concedes. “I’ll trust you.”

On that promise, he drains the remainder of the beer in his glass, all the while wondering how he managed to become friends with the two most insane men in Japan.

-

For the fourth time this week, Jongdae finds himself lying awake and staring at the ceiling. Light filters through the window from outside, allowing him to check the time on the rusty clock sitting on his nightstand. It’s already three in the morning.

He wonders if the prisoners they helped escape had made it alright. If the the plan was followed correctly, they’d be somehow finding their way to safety in China by now. Han wouldn’t hear from them for at least a few weeks, and in the meantime they would have to simply hope.

After a few more minutes of tossing and turning, Jongdae gives up on sleep and quietly ventures outside. The military base is peacefully quiet at night. It’s a stark difference than the usual noise that comes with hundreds of men in one closed space. There’s a few other men wandering around, enjoying the quiet and basking in the brief escape from the heat of the daytime. Jongdae nods his greetings with a small smile, keeping up his act as the kind Corporal in the engineering division. He was well liked, as he usually was. This time, however, Jongdae thinks it has more to do with his rank than his personality.

He finally reaches his destination, and breathes a sigh of relief to find the person he was hoping to see sitting outside a cabin staring up at the night sky. Quietly, Jongdae makes his way over to sit as well.

“Hyung, you should sleep.” Jongdae’s whisper is barely audible.

“You’re telling me,” Jongdeok rolls his eyes, elbowing him in the side playfully. “Did you succeed?”

“I hope so,” Jongdae sighs, fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt. He can hear a lecture brewing on the tip of Jongdeok’s tongue.

“Must you keep doing this? You’re putting yourself in too much danger Jongdae,” Jongdeok admonishes.

“I’ll be fine,” Jongdae states simply, ending the conversation. His brother has a right to be worried, but Jongdae is also entitled to his own decisions. “Any word from home?”

With his assumed identity, Jongdae was no longer allowed to write home. The only people he was able to keep in touch with were Kai and Sehun, who were luckily safe. The air raids in Tokyo were getting more frequent and volatile, leaving thousands dead and even more wounded. The two of them haven’t left the safety of their home in quite a while, and that’s the only thing allowing Jongdae to rest easy in his worry for them.

“I got a letter a few days ago,” Jongdeok hums. “All is good still. We owe a great deal to Chanyeol and Minseok for taking such good care of them. We must find a way to thank them when this is all over.”

Jongdae stays silent at that. He hopes that he will get the chance to see his friends again, but with each passing day the notion seems more unlikely.

“You should get going,” his brother urges. The ten minutes Jongdae has been here are already too many. “I will try to alert you before I leave, but it might be difficult for me.”

Jongdae nods and rises, wanting to give his brother a hug and resisting the urge. It feels unfair, to have to say goodbye to Jongdeok yet again. His brother would be leaving to fight in China any day now, and Jongdae doesn’t know which goodbye will be the last one. It feels like seven years ago all over again.

“Stay safe. Write if you can,” Jongdae whispers before turning on a heel and making the trek back to his own quarters, the feeling of dread eating him up whole.  

-

“Baekhyun, this is insane,” Jongdae seethes at the man across from him. “We just arranged an escape _two weeks ago_ , there’s no way we can get away with another one so soon. We’ll get caught.”

“I know what it sounds like,” Han reasons from his right where he’s sitting and playing with his fingers. Jongdae has picked up on the nervous habit over the years, and it means that this particular scheme might be a step too far. “We can pull this off, I know it.”

“Han, if I get caught, all of this ends. Hundreds of men that can be helped won’t get a chance,” Jongdae breathes, trying to keep his voice from getting too loud. Having to meet in public has been the hardest part of their secret missions, but they have no other choice. He glances around, and thankfully no one is paying them any mind.

“The war is ending soon anyways,” Baekhyun pleads. “We won’t have to do this for much longer. Come on Jongdae.”

“How many is it this time?” Jongdae doesn’t want to hear the answer.

“Forty.” Han is barely audible, but Jongdae hears him loud and clear. They’ve got to be kidding him.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Jongdae has half a mind to get up and leave the pub so that his friends can sit and think about how stupid their idea is.

“You would just have to lead them to the station and convince the military officer that there was a mix up with the prisoner transport. Same as always,” Baekhyun urges, leaning forward in anticipation. “Nothing will go wrong, I promise.”

He shouldn’t say yes.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” Jongdae concedes. “But this is the last time I’m doing something this risky.”

“Of course. We’ll control ourselves and our crazy schemes for next time,” Han smiles, slinging an arm around his shoulder. Jongdae rolls his eyes, he knows well enough that Han is lying.

-

The sun is setting along the shoreline as Jongdae lounges on the sand. He’s incredibly far away from the military base, and there’s no way he’ll be able to make it back before curfew, but for some reason he doesn’t get up to leave. The reason is sitting right next to him, smiling” and letting the last few rays of sun soak into his skin.

“I wish we could do this everyday,” Baekhyun sighs. “I feel like I never see you anymore, military man.”

“Yes, well there is war raging all around us, if you haven’t noticed. I’ve been kind of busy.” Jongdae glances at his watch. He really should go.

“None of that today,” Baekhyun chides, nudging him in his side and instantly shifting his attention away from time. “We worry too much about time running out every day, let’s just take a break for once.”

“I suppose one evening wouldn’t hurt,” Jongdae smiles, letting out the breath he’s been holding for who knows how long.

“And this is why I like you Kim Jongdae,” Baekhyun proclaims, hand winding over to poke him in the chest. “Never shying away from a little rebellion.”

Jongdae doesn’t mention that it’s only ever Baekhyun that can make him. The man’s ego was already far too large without the added knowledge.

“So, they say that this will all be over soon.” Baekhyun turns to him playfully. “What are you going to do?”

“Run home faster than I’ve ever run anywhere,” Jongdae laughs, leaning back as his hands sink farther into the sand. “And then who knows.”

It’s hard to imagine a new life outside of Japan. He made a life for himself and became an adult in this country. It would be hard to think of what would be waiting for him in Busan if he had the chance to return. There’s no doubt that Sehun would be staying in Tokyo. Jongdae thinks that someday when tensions have calmed, he might like to return as well.   

“What about you?”

“There’s no telling,” Baekhyun shrugs. “I’m a free spirit with nothing holding me down. Perhaps I’ll become a nomad.”

“Don’t be a stranger then,” Jongdae hums, keeping his tone light. “I have a whole world I can show you in Busan.”

“A stranger to you Kim Jongdae? I could never,” Baekhyun jokes, placing an arm over his chest in false shock. Something in his voice tells Jongdae that there’s more to the statement, but he ignores it. There’s a war raging around them and certainly no time to entertain thoughts like that.

“I suppose I could say the same.”

“Of course you can. You love me and you know it.”

And perhaps Jongdae does know, but Jongdae has known quite a few things in his life that he wouldn’t dare say out loud.

“So, tomorrow,” Jongdae changes the topic to the real reason they decided to meet here.

“Stop worrying Jongdae, everything will be alright. Just meet me near the east gate an hour past dusk,” Baekhyun sighs. “Relax, alright?”

“Okay, I will.”

He turns his attention back to the setting sun and they fall into a comfortable silence. Thoughts flood his brain and he forces himself to repeat Baekhyun’s words.

_Everything will be alright._

But no matter how hard he tries, Jongdae can’t ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach and believe that it will.

-

Walking through the dark streets, Jongdae can’t quell the feeling he’s been having since his conversation with Baekhyun on the beach. He sees Baekhyun at the East Gate and hurries over to him.

“Are you sure we should do this?” Jongdae asks for the hundredth time.

“It’s going to be fine,” Baekhyun sighs. “What has been wrong with you lately?”

“I don’t know. I just feel strange about this.” Jongdae frowns and meets Baekhyun’s concerned gaze. “Whatever, let’s just get this over with. Where’s Han?”

“He couldn’t come. I’ll explain later.”

Jongdae frowns at that, but doesn’t question any further. They walk silently towards the same shed that Jongdae has seen a dozen times. Their strategy has been the same for months now, and perhaps that’s why Jongdae is so nervous. He enters the shed with Baekhyun at his side to see too many men standing uncomfortably close to each other.

“Alright boys, it’s time to get on out of here. Jongdae here will be leading you to the station. Stay silent and remember what I told you,” Baekhyun turns to Jongdae. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Jongdae sighs, turning towards the men. “Alright let’s get going.”

Without a glance or a goodbye, he turns away from Baekhyun and leads the men on their way. Every hundred steps that pass, Jongdae’s nerves ease slowly. By the time they’ve reached the station, he begins to wonder why he was even nervous to begin with. Jongdae walks the group up to the guard standing outside.

“What’s going on here?” the guard asks him, eyeing the group of men behind Jongdae in confusion. Jongdae glances at the guard’s insignia to check his rank. Realizing that he’s a private, Jongdae relaxes even more.

“There’s been a mix up at the prison. We have more to send than we intended.” Jongdae pulls out the documentation from his breast pocket and allows the private to inspect it thoroughly.

“Alright Corporal, the train has already boarded. Better hurry.” The private opens the gate and allows the group inside. Jongdae rushes them in, there’s not much time before the train leaves.

They walk all the way down to the last cabin before Jongdae instructs the men to begin boarding. The train whistle sounds as the last few prisoners board. When the last one boards, Jongdae lets out a sigh of relief. Perhaps he should have more faith in Baekhyun and Han after all.

“Hey you!”

Jongdae hears yelling coming from the other side of the station. There are two men holding flashlights running towards him.

Another whistle sounds and the train starts moving.

“Stop right there!”

The men get closer. Jongdae is hit with a wave of panic. They’ve been caught.

Immediately, Jongdae strips himself of his jacket and throws it onto the train tracks. Before he can even comprehend what he’s doing, he jumps onto the moving train and stumbles inside to see the wide eyes of at least fifty men staring at him. The yelling begins to fade in volume as the train picks up speed and Jongdae’s heart threatens to escape his chest. The realization of what he just did hits him and he crumbles to the ground instantly.

Tears well up in his eyes and he struggles to breathe.

Curling up on himself, he wonders to himself just what he’s gotten himself into this time.

**_July 24_ ** **_ th _ ** **_, 1945_ **

_They say it’s all coming to an end soon, but sometimes I struggle to believe it. They’ve been saying that for years, so what makes this any different?_

 

_Tomorrow I will be leading another group of refugees to escape. For some reason, something feels wrong. Perhaps my conscience is starting to wondering how much longer we can test fate. One can only break the rules so many times before they get caught. I’ll have to find a way to convince_ _H and BH that we must be more careful. Hopefully we won’t have to continue doing this for much longer._

 

_If word is true, maybe we’ll all be on our way home in no time at all._

 

 


	12. February 2019

Jongdae stares down at the book that lies on the table in front of him. It’s closed – finally finished after months and months of reading, and he can’t quite comprehend what’s going on.

It feels foolish, now that he thinks about it. It’s not like he was reading a novel with a fictional protagonist. The man in the journal was a real person. Real people don’t have happy endings. Real people’s lives aren’t a story – sometimes they don’t have an ending at all. The journal might have ended, but the man’s life must have kept going. For how long, Jongdae can’t say with certainty, but it did.

Unsettled is the only description Jongdae can attach to his feelings right now. His brain can’t stop thinking. Did the man live through the war? Was he able to escape successfully? What about his friends?

Jongdae sighs and rises from his desk to roll into bed. Questions that have no answers flood his brain, and with that he falls into a fitful sleep.

-

“I didn’t know that this was possible, but I think he’s moping even more than he was yesterday,” Jongin groans in Kyungsoo’s direction.

“I’m right here, Jongin,” Jongdae frowns, staring forlornly into his bowl of cereal.

“I know. I _wanted_ you to hear that, dumbass.”

“Let it go baby. I think we just need to give up on him,” Kyungsoo sighs, shoving a plate of fresh bacon at Jongdae. He considers adding the meat to his cereal bowl before deciding against it. He’s been judged enough by his friends today, and honestly has no need for Jongin’s inevitable lecture about his strange eating habits.

“Did I just hear you say baby? You come to my home and-”

“Shut up.” Kyungsoo and Jongin deadpan in unison.

“Jongdae, it’s been a month. Can you please go talk to him?” Kyungsoo reasons, coming up behind his seat at the island and wrapping his arms around Jongdae. “You’re miserable.”

“He hates me,” Jongdae pouts as he takes a giant bite of bacon before shoveling more cereal into his mouth. Jongin looks downright disgusted, and it’s oh-so-satisfying.

“You know that’s not true.” Jongin rolls his eyes, trying to give Jongdae what he thinks is a meaningful look. Jongdae thinks he just looks kinda stupid.

And Jongdae would love to suspend his disbelief. In fact, he does it all the time when he dreams up fantasies of how he would go to Baekhyun with a grand gesture and they’d get back together.

But reality is different. Reality means that Baekhyun hasn’t picked up his calls in a month. It means that Minseok had to drag him away from outside his and Baekhyun’s apartment where Jongdae had decided to camp out in hopes that Baekhyun would just _talk_ to him. Reality leaves Jongdae confused, because Baekhyun walked away with an I love you but hasn’t come back since.

“He won’t talk to me,” Jongdae sighs. “I don’t know what to do to get him to just meet with me. He won’t answer calls or texts and if Minseok sees me at their door again I think he’s going to punch me in the face.”

“I mean, I would I were him,” Kyungsoo shrugs, earning a glare from Jongdae.

“Maybe you’re calling the wrong person,” Jongin hums in thought. The other two look at him in confusion. “I mean if Kyungsoo was that mad at me, I would probably talk to you first, Jongdae. So maybe you should try talking to Minseok?”

It’s a great idea, really. Jongdae has to give Jongin that much. The only problem is-

“Too bad I’m deathly afraid of Minseok,” Jongdae groans, slumping so far down on his barstool that he’s about two seconds away from falling right off.

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not,” Kyungsoo states plainly before whipping out his phone and dialing a number before Jongdae can move to stop him. “Boys, it’s time for an intervention.”

-

 _“You broke his trust, Jongdae. It’s going to take time to win it back. You can’t give up.”_ Minseok’s words ring through Jongdae’s head as he lies on his bed staring up at the ceiling.

Sometimes it feels like that’s all he really knows how to do. Growing up in the kind of environment he did, it feels like he doesn’t know any better. Silently minding his own business, giving up what he really wants, and moving on from disappointment. It’s just how he learned to live.

From the day he met Baekhyun, he knew he wanted more than that. Meeting Baekhyun taught him that he should chase after what he wants and fight for what he loves. It just took Baekhyun leaving for him to figure out that living his dream is would be hard work.  

He sighs and drags himself out of bed, wandering into the kitchen in search of sustenance.  It’s quiet, much like it’s usually been lately. Kyungsoo and Jongin are off wandering the city, carefully tending to their budding romance. They never fail to extend an invite to Jongdae, but third wheeling is most definitely not the cure to a broken heart. As he makes himself dinner, he catches the worn out leather journal sitting on the island where Jongdae left it last, re-reading it over one of the many tubs of ice cream he’s consumed in the last few weeks.

Reading about the man in the journal has taught him more than he could ever imagine about life. In his hardship ridden life, the man in the journal was able to _live_ more than Jongdae ever has in his own privileged one. Bravery and courage are foreign concepts to Jongdae in the way that they were the man in the journal’s very lifestyle.

Restlessly, Jongdae continues to make dinner with a whirlwind of thoughts churning in his head. He stares at the chicken frying on the pan in front of him and decides that enough is enough. He pulls out his phone and quickly searches for and dials the number he needs to call.

_“Hello, how may I help you?”_

“Hi yes, I’d like to order a bouquet of roses to send to someone,” Jongdae starts, before changing his mind. “Actually, would it be possible to send a bouquet every day for the next few weeks?”

_“Well, yes, I suppose that is possible. It would be quite expensive however so I’m not sure-”_

“Perfect, I’ll get the address for you if you’ll give me a few seconds,” Jongdae runs to his room for the business card Minseok gave him, leaving the chicken to burn on the pan and deciding that he’s done giving up.

-

“Jongdae, I told you to keep trying, not to turn the New York Times office into a goddamn flower shop,” Minseok hisses at him across from the table. Kyungsoo proposed a strategy lunch at some swanky sandwich shop in Manhattan, and until Jongdae walked in, he had no idea that the words swanky and sandwich could ever belong together. It wasn’t until he took his first bite into their signature chicken pesto sandwich, toasted to perfection, that he was sorely mistaken.

“No, but is he reading the messages?” Jongdae ignores Minseok’s woes to ask the real question around a giant bite of his sandwich. Minseok’s face distorts into a blend of mild annoyance and intense disgust.

“Can you please chew with your mouth closed, thank you?” Minseok sighs, regarding Jongdae as if he were a hopeless preschooler. “And yes, he’s been reading them, but I’ve been friends with Baekhyun for years and I still don’t know how to read his poker faces.”

“Not even a little reaction?” Kyungsoo frowns.

“He’s really good at it, alright?” And Jongdae can agree with that. For someone so loud and expressive, Baekhyun could be incredibly hard to figure out sometimes.

Jongdae thinks about the message he attached with today’s bouquet.

_Remember that day when we were just sitting on your couch, doing absolutely nothing. You were telling me about how you and your older brother still fight about action figures and I kind of just broke down because I could never imagine doing that with mine? You held me and told me that I have more than enough people to fight with and gave me a list of things I could go home and fight with Kyungsoo about until I couldn’t stop laughing. That was the day I fell in love with you, and I’ll never forget that moment because thanks to your love, I will never forget that I have so much to appreciate in my life. Baekhyun, I miss you. Please just talk to me._

“But honestly, I think I saw something today,” Minseok hums, wondering aloud. Jongdae’s head whips up at that. “It wasn’t a smile, but it was something in his eyes. They looked, I don’t know, peaceful? Content? I’m not sure.”

Jongdae can almost see it happening in front of him. He knows that look, and it gives him hope.

“I know he misses you, he’s just being stubborn,” Minseok huffs, stabbing at the potatoes on his plate. And perhaps Baekhyun is being kind of difficult. But then again, Jongdae kind of deserves it.

“He’ll come around,” Kyungsoo reassures them. “Just give him some time. He needs it.”

-

“Well, you look less dead than yesterday!” Luhan exclaims as Jongdae drags himself into his mentor’s office that Friday evening.

“Baby steps, you know,” Jongdae shrugs, smiling pitifully as he settles into his usual seat.

“Any news on Baekhyun?”

“I think he’s cracking. Very slowly, but it’s happening.” Jongdae leans back into the chair and curls his feet up.

“No sleeping in my office,” Luhan chides, face scrunching up. “Anyways, give me updates, my star player.”

Ever since Jongdae went to Luhan for career advice, the man has taken it upon himself to act like Jongdae’s exclusive sports agent. It was one of the many quirky things about the office that really helps him forget about his personal woes while he’s there.  

“Sehun jammed the printer twice today and Chanyeol screamed at him.”

“Those aren’t the kinds of updates I was asking f-” Luhan freezes. “Did you say Chanyeol screamed? Like the angry kind of screaming? He can do that?”

“Yeah it was a spectacle. Sexual tension detected, will continue investigating in the coming weeks.” Jongdae updates, as if they’re talking about a serious case.  


“Oh please do, that’s some spicy gossip,” Luhan leans forward, cracking his knuckles in joy. “See, this is why you’re my star player. Now, give me some real updates.”

“I’ve been keeping in contact with Kris Wu, but I feel like I’m going to need to make more connections. He has some people in mind, but I need to branch out.”

Luhan hums in agreement and tilts his head to the side. He considers his words for a few seconds. “So I know on a low level that your relationships with your father is pretty, what’s the word, tense?”

Jongdae doesn’t like where this is going.

“But you might want to consider speaking to him. I’ll talk to Yixing, but honestly, it would be a foolish move to not make use of your father’s connections. He’s a powerful man.”

Jongdae stays silent, not knowing what to say.

“Of course, I don’t want you to feel like you have to,” Luhan continues, attempting to reassure him. “But it really wouldn’t hurt is all.”  

Luhan is right, and Jongdae knows that, but the thought of speaking to his father again, that too for a favor, sends chills through him. It boils down to him being afraid of the house he left behind and the family that he left along with it.

But, then again, Jongdae had made a decision for himself. He was done being a coward  

“I’ll go tomorrow,” he exhales, small smile appearing on his face. Maybe being courageous doesn’t have to be so hard after all.

-

Jongdae didn’t expect to find himself back in front of these dreaded French doors this quickly after his visit home last month, but here he was anyways. With a deep breath, he turns the key and pushes the doors open to let himself into the house unannounced. Ignoring his surroundings, he heads straight to the only place he would find the person he came here to see.

Taking heavy steps, he finally finds himself in front of those dreaded mahogany doors. The hand that he raises shakes slightly as his knuckles meet the door thrice.

“Yes, who is it?” Jongdae hears the confusion in his father’s voice. He likely wasn’t expecting anyone to visit, and nothing in the Kim house occurs without planning.

“It’s me, Jongdae,” Jongdae calls out, attempting to keep the nervousness out of his voice. After his unceremonious early departure from dinner last month, he was probably more unwelcome in this home than usual.

His father lets out a grunt that only a few people would be able to translate to ‘ _come in’._ Jongdae tentatively opens the door and walks inside. Without making eye contact, or even looking in his father’s direction, he takes a seat across from him at the desk. Sunlight filters in through the windows, making the room much brighter than Jongdae is used to. He can’t remember the last time that the drapes had been drawn in this room.

“I can’t say that I’m not surprised, my son,” his father chuckles a little, drawing Jongdae’s eyes up. He’s dressed as if he’s ready to head straight to the golf course.

“I hope I’m not keeping you from anything,” Jongdae starts slowly, preparing himself to get up and go at first command.

“Nothing that’s more important than you, my boy. Golf can wait. Now tell me, what brings you here?” his father leans back in his chair and and raises his eyebrows, urging Jongdae to speak.

“I have a favor to ask,” Jongdae exhales, eyes fixated on his shoes. “I know after everything that happened last time I was here. It might be a lot to ask.”

“We didn’t exactly welcome you, so there’s nothing to worry about. Tell me what it is, you’ve got me curious,” his father shrugs matter-of-factly. Jongdae is shocked enough for a moment that he forgets what he even came here to say for a moment.

“Well, I’m glad to see that you realize that, I suppose?” Jongdae barely recovers. “Anyways, I was hoping that you’d be able to put me in touch with some individuals that might help me, um, reach my career goals? I guess?”

“Are you asking me a favor or asking yourself a question?” his father laughs, playful expression decorating his face. It all feels eerily casual, and Jongdae’s walls immediately begin to go up.

“You must know plenty of international lawyers,” Jongdae tries again, with more conviction this time. “I was wondering if you could put me in touch with a few. For networking purposes.”

“International law?” his father sits up, breaking the relaxed position that he begins every conversation with Jongdae in. Jongdae starts to tense up. This is when things usually start to go wrong in their conversations.

“I’ve been trying to plan my future career moves, and I think this is the direction I want to go in,” Jongdae explains, peeking up at his father. “International Law for Human Rights.”

His father’s expression turns into one of consideration. “I’ll reach out to a few people and put you in touch with them. Give me a week or so and I’ll send you the information.”

Jongdae’s head whips up to take a good look at his father for the first time since he entered the room. “What?”

“You looked surprised, my boy,” his father chuckles. It’s a melancholy laugh.

“I just,” Jongdae struggles with his words. “I wasn’t expecting-”

“Me to help you?” his father frowns. Jongdae wonders for a moment just exactly what it was that he was expecting.

“For you to help me without any conditions,” he thinks out loud. And that really is it. There were always strings attached in the Kim family.

“It’s a prestigious and respectable field, well suited to an intelligent boy like you. I have nothing more to ask for,” his father rationalizes. “Jongdae, you are my son. As much as you like to convince yourself that I hate you, that will never be the case.”

Jongdae wants to argue. Tell his father that he’s never done anything to prove his love.

“I am not good at expressing how much I care about you,” his father continues, almost as if he can read Jongdae’s mind. “And I have made more than enough mistakes for you to expect the very least of me. I’m aware of this.”

His father rises from his chair and gestures Jongdae to do the same. Slowly he leads them to the corner of the bookcase lined wall to a section of books that look identical to one another.

“You see, it’s hard for me to come to terms with the relationships I’ve built with my sons. Your late aunt and I, we were so close to your grandfather. I had always dreamed of having the same kind of relationship with my kids, but I suppose I lost sight of that after I had taken over the business and married your mother.”

Jongdae’s father reaches for one of the many leather bound books and pulls it off the shelf. “Your grandfather used to write accounts of his life. He wrote diligently, until he was too weak to hold a pen in the weeks leading to his passing. I keep them here to remember everything he achieved in his life and how he did it. I learnt how to run a business through reading these diaries, but somehow, I failed to learn how to be the compassionate person he was. His life was so vivid and meaningful.”  

Jongdae looks at the volumes of journals lining the shelves. There must be at least thirty, maybe even more.

“Kim Jongdae was a great man, and that is why I named you after him. I have never respected any man more than him.” His father continues, with a smile on his face. “And there has never been a moment that I have felt disappointed that it is you that carries on his legacy. No one else would have been able to do it quite as well as you.”

“Me?” Jongdae almost laughs incredulously.  


“My father lived while bending the rules without breaking them. He was courageous and brave, and he had such a _spirit_ to him.  I see so much of him in you, it’s no wonder I’ve always had a soft spot for you,” his father jokes.

“That’s exactly what makes me the misfit in this family, and now you’re saying it’s a good thing?” Jongdae scoffs. His father turns the journal over in his hands and heads back to the desk to take a seat, motioning for Jongdae to follow suit.

 

“At first, when we got married, your mother and I never saw eye to eye on very much,” his father explains. “Until a few years went by and work got busier and suddenly it became very easy not to think for myself when it comes to the household. I know it’s not an excuse, but I’ve been trying to support you. You can’t say you haven’t noticed.”

Jongdae regards his father silently, not knowing how to feel. He has, noticed. It’s just that his father had failed so miserably at doing so that it’s almost laughable.

“If this is what you want, believe in yourself. You will do great things, Jongdae. You have it in your blood and in your name.” His father slides the journal in his hands across the desk towards Jongdae. “And you might want to read this.”

Jongdae takes the journal and begins to rise, sensing that the conversation is over. His head is reeling and he’s barely registering what’s going on as he starts to walk towards the entryway. When he makes it to the door, he turns back.

“Bye, dad.” Jongdae’s hand lingers on the doorknob. He doesn’t know exactly what he’s waiting for.

“Bye my son. Come back soon, please.” It sounds genuine, and for the first time in years, Jongdae actually wants to believe it. Things were nowhere near fixed, but Jongdae doesn’t feel as scared of trying to as he did before. “Oh and Jongdae? Next time you’d like something from my library, all you have to do is ask.”

Jongdae’s brows knit together in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Over there,” his father gestures to the section of the shelves where the journal he’s holding was just sitting. “It seems to me that there’s two spaces missing.”

It takes a moment, but when the realization hits Jongdae, it almost knocks the wind out of him.

“Drunkenly stealing from my library as revenge is a bit cliché don’t you think? I hope you enjoyed reading what you found,” his father teases with a wink. “Anyways, off you go. I have a game of golf to get to, and I think you have some more reading to do.”

Jongdae wide eyes shine as he looks back at his father. “Yeah, I’ll see you soon dad.”

He leaves the office looking down at the journal in his hands and the image of the dozens of installments on his father’s bookshelves flash in his mind.

It looks like he’ll have more reasons to visit home now.

-

“Are you smiling?” Jongin wonders in astonishment as Jongdae walks into his apartment, journal in hand. “I thought you forgot how to do that.”

“Where have you been all day?” Kyungsoo hums from the stove where he’s cooking up what smells like steak.

“I was home, actually.”

Kyungsoo turns around so quickly that he almost knocks the pan onto the floor.

“Is that a sarcastic smile? Because you really need to work on the sarcastic part of it,” Jongin frowns, squinting at Jongdae in scrutiny.

“No, I just talked to my dad,” Jongdae explains, hopping on a barstool, placing the clean leather-bound journal in onto the island next to the the tattered one already sitting there. “It went surprisingly well.”

“Is that all you have to say about it?” Kyungsoo prompts, expression worried.

“For now,” Jongdae shrugs. He’s feels more peaceful than he’s ever felt after visiting home, and he would rather not dwell on it too much.

“Alright then,” Kyungsoo leaves it at that and turns back to his cooking.

“What’s this?” Jongin sits next to him and motions towards the new journal. Jongdae looks at him and grins.

“I hope you guys are ready for a crazy story.”

-

Jongdae is running out of ideas, and that’s normally when he starts doing things that others might consider to be _extra_ stupid.

“And you made him wear a white shirt?” Jongdae pants into his phone as he runs towards Starbucks during his lunch break.

 _“Yes I did,”_ Minseok sighs through the phone. “ _What on earth are you up to?”_

“Don’t worry, I have this under control. Just do exactly what I told you on my signal, okay?”

Jongdae doesn’t wait for a response before he hangs up the phone. He bursts through the doors and thankfully there’s no line, so he runs up to the counter.

“What the fuck?” Johnny the Barista eyes his disheveled state judgmentally. “You better not have an order from your boss, because I’m off duty in 15 minutes and I swear I will make you wait.”

“Just one regular coffee,” Jongdae orders urgently. “And make it fast.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Johnny the Barista retorts, but complies regardless. “Why the rush anyways?”

“I’m trying to win back my boyfriend,” Jongdae explains, quickly pulling out bills from his wallet and slapping them on the counter.

“I think you mean ex-boyfriend,” Johnny corrects, holding out the coffee, which Jongdae grabs immediately.

“Not for much longer, hopefully,” Jongdae calls out as grabs a drink-stopper of the counter and runs out of the shop franticly, leaving a very startled barista in the dust. He doesn’t stop running when he gets outside, and instead pulls out his phone. Somehow, he manages to run, text Minseok, and protect the coffee in his hand all at once. When he arrives at the New York Times building, he doesn’t think twice before rushing in. He sees Minseok waiting near the key entry area and bounds over to him.

“Jongdae what the heck are you doing?” Minseok seethes quietly, glancing around to make sure no one is looking at them.

“Just wait and you’ll see,” Jongdae waves him off, stuffing his phone in his pocket and removing the drink stopper to take a sip of his coffee. “Can you let me in?”

Minseok groans and swipes his badge, opening up the security doors. “If you get me fired for this, I swear to god I will kill you before you can even say Baekhyun’s name.”

Jongdae slips through the entryway and turns back. “You’re my favorite Minseok, and I promise to make sure you are specially honored at our wedding, alright?” He turns back around, leaving a slightly less angry Minseok behind. He runs over to the elevator bank, and thankfully he’s just in time. Without breaking his run, he hurries towards the corner elevator and manages to slip through right before it closes, loosing his balance as he makes it inside in the knick of time.

“Holy shit,” Jongdae exclaims as the elevator doors close behind him and the car starts moving up. “I’m so sorry!”

He reaches behind him and smashes the emergency button, and then turns back to meet eyes with a very frazzled Baekhyun.

“What the actual fuck?” Baekhyun exhales in shock. “Oh my god, you actually did this.”

Baekhyun looks down at the coffee stain that was now setting into a very nicely fitted Calvin Klein white dress shirt that Jongdae vividly remembers picking out for him.

“Jongdae, not only is this so cliché, but I also have a _very important_ meeting in two hours,” Baekhyun complains, flailing in exasperation.

“You have two hours and I have inside knowledge that you’re fully prepared,” Jongdae shrugs as he begins to unbutton his shirt.

“This is so stupid oh my god.”

Jongdae frowns, shirt fully unbuttoned by now. Maybe this was really just a stupid idea after all. He looks up and instantly, his worries melt away when he sees Baekhyun fighting - and losing - a match with the corners of his mouth. It takes a few seconds before he’s chuckling to himself and shaking his head at Jongdae, face painted with a strange mix of annoyance and endearment.

“You left me with no options,” Jongdae huffs, shrugging his shirt off and holding it between them in offering. Baekhyun rolls his eyes and begins unbuttoning his own. “You’re really making this hard on me, you know.”

“Minseok told me I was being a petty bitch, but honestly I just wanted you to know how pissed off I was,” Baekhyun says casually. “And on top of that I _was_ genuinely really busy.”

“You could have sent me a ‘ _I don’t hate you but stop annoying me, dumbass’_ text or something,” Jongdae whines, switching shirts with Baekhyun. “I just need to talk to you and beg for forgiveness okay?”

Baekhyun sighs and just stares at Jongdae’s pouting face, shrugging on Jongdae’s Givenchy. “We can’t talk now. I have to go.”

“I know, but promise me you’ll let me see you after your big meeting today?” Jongdae pleads, taking a step closer to Baekhyun. It’s tentative, and Jongdae isn’t sure he’s even allowed to get this close, but he can’t stop himself.

Baekhyun stares at him in silence for a few moments. It feels like an eternity to Jongdae and he’s about to open his mouth to say something else until-

“Okay,” Baekhyun agrees softly, and it sounds like he’s talking to himself as much as he’s talking to Jongdae. “Alright.”

“Okay, come home after work? I’ll be waiting for you,” Jongdae asks, turning to push the button again, setting the elevator back in motion. Baekhyun nods, expression softening as each second passes. As they get closer, Jongdae decides that he can’t take it anymore and pulls Baekhyun into his embrace. “You’re going to do amazing at this meeting. Minseok told me how important it is.”

Baekhyun slowly snakes his arms around Jongdae’s torso and squeezes. “Thank you,” he whispers, voice shaky with emotion.

Jongdae pulls back and marvels at the sight of Baekhyun in front of him. It’s only been a few weeks, but Jongdae doesn’t know how he’s gone so long without being able to touch him.

“Anyways, you have my lucky Givenchy shirt on, you’ll do fine,” Jongdae jokes, grin spreading on his face until his eyes are crinkled up.

“This thing?” Baekhyun wonders, looking down. “Since when has this been lucky.”

“It’s the shirt I was wearing the day I met you,” Jongdae shrugs, eyes shifting away from Baekhyun.

“That’s so cheesy, ugh,” he complains. He fails to keep the smile off his face, and it only takes a moment for his grin to mirror Jongdae’s.

The elevator dings and the doors open. With one last squeeze, Jongdae lets go of Baekhyun, who steps away to walk out onto his floor. Before he can get too far, Jongdae steps between the elevator doors.

“Baekhyun wait,” Jongdae calls after him, grabbing his wrist and pulling him back lightly. “Before you go...”

Jongdae leans down and crashes into Baekhyun’s lips with his own for a brief and passionate kiss. “I love you.”

Baekhyun’s eyes shine and he leans in to give Jongdae a peck in response.

“I love you too,” Baekhyun giggles, pushing him back into the elevator, which was now beeping angrily from being blocked. “Now get out of my office before someone reports me for PDA.”

Jongdae waits for the elevator door to close before he starts squealing like a teenager.

-

“Are you _sure_ they’re not dating?” Baekhyun asks for the hundredth time as they make their way into Jongdae’s apartment after dinner with Yifan and Yixing.

“I’m pretty sure,” Jongdae chuckles, hanging up his jacket near the door and walking over to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. “I can’t un-see Luhan and Yixing doing god knows what horizontally on his desk.”

“You never know,” Baekhyun shrugs, joining him at the island and stealing the glass out of his hands to take a sip. “They might _all_ be dating.”

To be honest, Jongdae wouldn’t even be surprised. “I don’t even want to think about it,” he groans, scrunching his face up. “Too many mental images are invading my brain right now, and none of them are welcome.”

Jongdae drags Baekhyun to his room by the hand and immediately pulls out two pairs of clothes for them to change into.

“I just can’t get over the fact that you were _that_ wrong about Sehun,” Baekhyun marvels as he changes.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jongdae pouts, remembering the unfortunate events at the office last week when Sehun brought his _girlfriend_ in to meet everyone. “I really thought there was something going on between him and Chanyeol.”

“Maybe _they’re_ all dating,” Baekhyun attempts again, yawning widely right as he finishes his sentence.

“Okaaay it’s time for us to sleep,” Jongdae smiles in endearment, pushing Baekhyun onto the bed and wrapping him in blankets.

“You’re just trying to get rid of me so that you can read, aren’t you?” Baekhyun sulks, snuggling into the blankets comfortably. Jongdae gets underneath besides him and watches Baekhyun’s eyes flutter closed from exhaustion. They’ve both been working themselves too hard lately and Jongdae is thankful that the weekend is finally here.

When Baekhyun starts to snore lightly next to him, he reaches over to his bedside table and grabs the black leather bound journal that’s sitting on it. With a smile, he opens it and begins to read.

 

**_May 1_ ** **_ st _ ** **_, 1946_ **

_Life has a way of throwing surprises at us when we least want or expect them, however, after almost eight years of surprises, here I stand. Today, as I look out at the ocean sparkling for miles and miles into the distance, I realize that I can’t have imagined my life any other way. After all, what would life be without the edge of surprise?_

_As I head home, I don’t know what awaits me._

_All I know is that today, after eight years away, I will return home as Kim Jongdae, a free man._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> And that’s a wrap on that! 
> 
> I tried very diligently to make the history at least somewhat accurate, and I really hope it is. I cannot guarantee that it all checks out, and if there are any discrepancies or mistakes I genuinely apologize. One of the biggest debates I had with myself before starting this was whether I could even get close to justly writing about such an important and significant historical period. I’m glad I did end up writing it, because I learned so much important history throughout the writing process.
> 
> Writing this was such a wild ride, and honestly I don’t even know how I got to the end. This took three years to write on and off can you believe it I can't. There were more times that I just wanted this to be DONE than I can count on my hands, but thanks to my lovely friends baileyisbest and grungusmungus, this story gets an ending. 
> 
> The title of this comes from the poem Calmly We Walk through This April's Day by Delmore Schwartz.
> 
> Please comment because I’d LOVE to hear what you think about this.


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